Starving Artist by Beth Gordon

I’d like to have a word with my costume
designer, script writer, press
agent.  This is not what I had in mind.  Acting
lessons didn’t pay off and the Golden Gate
Bridge sparkles with the reflection of one
hundred thousand chrome plated bumpers,
shiny pink lip
stick and white washed gloves.  If I could
show you my portfolio, my body of work,
you might give me a job painting delicate
fairy-tales on headboards.  Don’t leave me
in the park with artists and newlyweds, holding
small sweaty hands
without restraint or care.  If their eyes
are the windows of the soul, I am terrified
by the dark mirrors and bleached lives.  These
are not the words I want to reside in my poetry,
not the acrylic landscapes that I intended
you to see.

Beth Gordon
Beth spends most Friday nights in the home of her friends, JD and Dale, drinking wine and writing about drinking wine. After doing this for a couple of years, they decided to see if anything they had written might entertain other people. She has most recently been published in Straight Up Magazine and on-line at the Dime Show Review.
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