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