The painting seems quite ordinary,
Nothing I would hang, even in the downstairs loo.
But the man on the TV who faintly reminds me
Of a teacher that once taught me geography,
He anxiously twists his hands as he waits
For the verdict on what was left to him
By his dear old aunt who lived with ten cats.
The expert whistles between his buck teeth
As he surveys the canvas, the subject’s eyes
That peer out creepily, like she knows something I don’t.
I think it’s worth a million, breathes the expert quite suddenly
And the crowd break out into excited applause.
My geography teacher grabbed for the easel
Before dropping to the ground.
He never recovered and I wonder sometimes
Where all of that money would go
As they loaded him in to the back of the ambulance,
And the painting was quickly