SEER SUCKERS

Here is Will with a marvelous haircut, looking
fresh as a daisy– wait, no, I am the daisy
in a white dress, he is the stalk. He looks
the way plants smell.

We go inside the museum.

I always read the captions to paintings first.
Sometimes I don't even look at the paintings.

We go to an exhibit of Dalí paintings, which
are astoundingly ugly. "Dalí's own disembodied
head appears in the middle box," a caption to
one of the pieces explains, "while an allegory
of castration anxiety plays out below." I do
not look at the picture after reading this
because it could not measure up to the things
that are going through my head.

The exhibit is full of people. There is a film
projected on a screen, but I'm distracted by
four plump bottoms, four women sitting in a
row watching the screen like patient hens.
The place where their bottoms meet the
bench– I am staring at this. Thinking, is it
like one of those Incan stone walls built
without mortar, where you can't even slide a
razor or a playing card through the crack?

And is there any way to find out?


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