I was once
standing next to
the security guard

at some museum when
I saw a kid
see a painting—

a giant purple Rothko—
“the fuck is that!” he
flung himself at it

(I think it was a
mix of wonder and anger
that there can be

such a thing as a
famous expensive giant
purple painted blob)

bouncing off the canvas
into his teacher’s grasp
his silhouette

a greasy totem pole
still visible as
a darker smear

on the canvas—
me and security, we
laughed and laughed