i painted a painting so deeply uninspired
that the still-frame of stars does not glisten or gleam.
the date seems to read, "2,000-expired,"
and the canvas itself is torn at the seams.
if one were to listen to the interlaced work
of the painting i painted with a taste much acquired,
then one might be a clerk who was purposely placed
with sated distaste for the art i transpire.
the only perk from a sale where a handshake's required
is that nothing i paint will be falsely admired.
still, i retire.
- alex mccurdy