The Gallery

The plain walls like white paper

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

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She looked on, intimidated by its simplicity.
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As if understanding was supposed to come easy.
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“I’m a short read, don’t be shy”

 

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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.
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This thing, you know this. It is a person. And a fish.
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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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