museum promises to be dull,
you’ll be hours
with the Virgin Mary
and her offspring
a thousand artists
with unpronounceable names
all imagining the same thing,
all dabbling in the same illusion;
after a while, you’re caught up in
the improvements you could make:
a moustache for the woman,
a split lip for the child,
maybe a new scrawl for a signature,
Gumby or Kilroy or Normal Rockwell;
meanwhile, your lover is in awe
of the beauty, the reverence,
and, more than that, she believes;
relationship promises to be chill,
you’ll be years in that museum
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