Aryan Ganjavi: Picasso, you would understand
Picasso, you would understand
my grandiose exchange
with famed paintings is
suddenly nullified
as she glides past—
luminescent,
handing smiles to strangers like
daisies.
I anxiously observe.
she meditates on every painting,
and slowly moves to the next.
I’m scared.
words jumble away and rapture into flames,
flames in my chest,
in my bones.
suddenly,
I give not a damn about these paintings.
I’m sorry Matisse,
I apologise Monet,
Picasso, you would understand.
she is older than me,
taller than me,
an artwork in her own right.
I pass her several times
stealing smiles.
her spider-leg eyelashes fan the flames
and the fire burns
harder.
I want to scream at her,
scream: “hey!
one day I’ll be on these walls
next to Dali and Rothko!
just give me some
goddamn time”.
but all I can cough up is this smoke
and she is mercilessly indifferent.
Picasso bows his head in shame.
Aryan Ganjavi
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