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What Lovely Coincidences
The artist
lacks authenticity
without disdain
for the everyday.
We will all drift this way,
eventually,
if we are to validate our claims
that we are ponderers
of the extravagant,
not panderers
to the petty!
but...
Come this time tomorrow
we may sober
to such a common oversight:
that art is uncommonly easy.
A cheap thrill
where ambiguity meets
imagination,
generalities beget
interpretations.
Where a placebo
masquerades
as a cure for the mundane,
and we jot senseless
waiting for strangers
to piece us pensive
and introspective
which, in turn,
is what they were hoping to find.
What lovely coincidences!
