• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 04
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Gothic Americans

We were both smiling just a minute
Before this was painted.

Still laughing at that joke I told
The night before,
When we drank cider and stretched out
On the floor, ever so slightly pissed.
In this we look so stern!
And I'm not even looking at the artist.

You'd just buttoned up the top buttons on your shirt
When they began to paint.
It's cold, you said.
And I made a joke about your bald head
And it took ages for us to make our faces serious again.
I guess we tried too hard.

If that artist had painted us from a bit further away
Perhaps it would have shown
My hand resting in the small of your back.

Straight faces! The artist kept telling us.
We were laughing too much
At first.

But we got there in the end.