Sharing Canvas with the Impressionists

 

Brought home one of Renoir’s strumpets

rouge heavy and

teetering with each step but

when she hiked up her skirt and

began dancing about the room

I figured I may have pinched

one of Degas’.

When she pulled out a pack of crayons and

began drawing on the walls

in wild colours

I was fairly certain that

she was one of Pissarro’s but

she’d mentioned that she liked the water so

she could have been

one of Monet’s.

 

I had no problem getting into her

as long as I didn’t make my own

creation.

Couldn’t keep it up anyways

and by the time I woke up

she was gone.

 

An angry letter on my side table

marked the beginnings of expressionism.

Impressionism was dead.

 

At least

that’s the impression I get.

 

Vallum Magazine.  Montreal, PQ.  Vol. 6, No. 2 (Autumn 2008). p. 65. 

© Ryan Quinn Flanagan