Well, I really don’t believe she–wait a sec–
Just a few strokes to darken an eye,
Maybe a prick of pain in the corner . . . there!
Uh-huh, she told me all about it. Crazy lady.
Mmmm. What do you think? Blood or a butterfly?
A newspaper hat? Well, I’m moving away from narrative,
Black backgrounds now which are full of–
Why’s she like that? I dunno, maybe childhood.
Can you spot the portrait? It looks like her,
But it isn’t. It’s me. I mean it’s my friend Clay.
I only paint myselves which are other people.
Wanna watch a documentary and make out?