In the continued conversation with my mother about poetry, art and what it means and whether we are worthy of its interpretation, she wrote this poem. I publish it here, on her birthday. Happy Birthday Mom. Thank you for making me appreciate art and literature – lower case. And for always, most importantly, making me laugh.
Remember that pompous ass
who, welcoming us into his gallery
asked, after shaking our hands
“Do you know Art?”
We didn’t dare look at each other,
saving the laughter for later.
But then, striding off he said
“Walk this way.”