The Impressionism wing strikes me as too dainty for my mood, except for one oil painting by Gustave Caillebotte, Calf’s Head and Ox Tongue, which is described in the wall text as “visually unpleasant.” A bust of an African woman bums me out. This year, I cried at everyone’s kitchen table, I spit on the street and was late on purpose and stepped in glass and my dog died and I saw minuses over and over. I’ll figure it out. I let a man walk away and then another one. It has taken me exactly this long to realize I could have done something else. I'm being repetitive now but do you ever hate yourself?
Calf's Head and Ox Tongue Date (c. 1882) Gustave Caillebotte French, 1848-1894
Took me awhile to learn the good words make the rain on my window grown and sexy now I’m in the tub holding down that on-sale Bordeaux pretending to be well adjusted I am on that real jazz shit sometimes I run the streets sometimes they run me I’m the body of the queen of my hood filled up with bad wine bad drugs mu shu pork sick beats what more can I say to you I open my stylish legs I get my swagger back let men with gold teeth bow to my tits and the blisters on my feet I become electric I’m a patch of grass the stringy roots you call home or sister if you want I could scratch your eyes make hip-hop die again I’m on that grown woman shit before I break the bottle’s neck I pour a little out: I am fallen