The Gallery

The plain walls like white paper

The rows of frames, perfectly aligned–its dutiful words.


She looked on, intimidated by its simplicity.
As if understanding was supposed to come easy.

“I’m a short read, don’t be shy”


But when she paused, on a square symbol, attempting to decode it;
All she could make out was—-this is green, here is a line, there the image.
This thing, you know this. It is a person. And a fish.
A befuddled sigh.
An escape to the gift shop.




/She fiddles with a pen decorated with abstract markings. Hmm. Maybe not.
Then, a magnet reproduction of the painting she was pondering.
That’s $3.50 please.
The register rings sharp and clear.
Satisfied, she ambles out of the gallery.

I’m cultured now.



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