You told me that you are a

Post constructivist situationalist pop artist.

So what are your paintings of,

I asked.

Well, they’re paintings about fucking.

You replied.

Matter of fact.

You know, paintings with lines & holes,

paintings that are doing things,

but they’re still just paintings. About fucking.

So if your paintings were a language,

I asked,

They’d be verbs?

No.

You replied.

I don’t think you quite get it.

So I asked to smell the red rose

pinned to your jacket pocket.

It had the aroma of musk and sweat and flowers.

I wondered if you would make a painting

about us,

doing this.