After Drowning Girl and Pistol by Lichtenstein
We see our own faces, drawn near,
smiling tightly.
We do not quite mouth
the black letters hanging in balloons.
Our eyes water
with the brightness of your gaze.
Crayon-yellow hair with the curves of a fifties ‘Vette
severed by the edge of the frame.
(This is a real scene.)
Towers rise sharp like Superman’s Metropolis;
a moon hangs like a yellow eye,
malevolent and certain of its permanence.
In this world,
the noise from a gun floats forever.
Museum of Modern Art 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9
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