A short poem about overly vigilant security guards at art galleries.
if i had a gun i’d shoot
that hire cop standing
with slitted gaze and uncompromising arms
unclipped gun and ink stained pockets
staring
just as i was really getting into ityes i know it’s a warhol
that’s why i spent
more than fifteen seconds
looking at itbelieve me i’m not thinking about
ripping it off the wall
tucking it under my arm
and running racing blue blazes outa here
at least i wasn’t beforeyou guys are doing a bang up job
protecting these paintings
Currently there are no comments related to "Fine Art". You have a special honor to be the first commenter. Thanks!
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!