ALL THOSE AIRS
They've got to go - the men know it, watching
the ladies at a 52nd Street bar. They stand around
iun expensive clusters, frittering away their time. I'd
rather be up at Lee's Art Supply on 57th, but for
now I'm stuck here. There's nothing to talk about.
-
It's right across the street, Lee's is, from the Art
Students League, where that German lady once took
me in. It was all crap, and she wouldn't shut up.
How do you tell someone they've messed up their
one chance of glory for nothing? I'd rather silence.
-
I sae her mid-day shared studio space. Five or six
other women - the arty sorts - non-descript of
course, and one or two fey guys painting flowers
to while away the hours. What's it all for anyway?
No comments:
Post a Comment