“Poetry slams at coffee houses.
With a person in a flannel shirt.
A beanie or some black rimmed glasses.
That is how I envisioned they dress.
I should put some paint on my britches.
And just press them against a canvas.
Have a professional take photos.
Or just some random guy with an app.
Of me brooding in black and white.
So I can put it up on shitter.
Saying I’m holding an art exhibition.
I bet I’d be a big hit to beatniks.
And that’s another that’s another thing to my friend.
All the ‘professional’ photographers.
These hot chicks always at a photoshoot.
And all I can think to myself is damn.
Selfies don’t cut it anymore.
People have to go the whole 9 yards.
And tell their self they’re at a photo shoot.