THE MUSEUM (a short story)

Early twentieth century
industrial monument of craftsmanship.
A fitting atmosphere and space
for art, opinions and observations.

Musing, I stroll, chamber by chamber
through numerous centuries and art movements.
The afternoon providing me with the according light

Next to me an old man;
almost absorbed by the brush strokes on the canvas.
The next room, contemporary. Corbijn: the reason for my visit here.
Perfect light captured in moody black and whites.
Minimalistic theater as art. Impressive...

When suddenly
A subtile touch,
with careless precision along my back.
A weightless caress with the impact of a truck.

You continue as if nothing happened,
don't even turn your face, until you reach the doorway
You slowly linger. A slight turn of the head.
Just enough to catch that glance and conscious half smile

Unable to see your countenance.
But such beautiful display of cunning naughtiness.
Self conscious and so very aware of her consequence.

I leave Corbijn
to follow this single woman.
So effortlessly distinguished from the crowd.
My true artist


(hope you liked this one ;-))