waterlilies

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            i told him i liked the painting of waterlilies

at an art exhibit he took me to.

he said it was too impressionistic,

            (i didn’t understand till months later

            i read a book on monet)

                        so i shut up.

            i told him i liked the movie i’d seen without him.

he said the critic from the new yorker thought

it was too passé,

                        so i shut up.

            i called him long-distance in southampton

to tell him i loved him.

he said he would love to talk

            but he was having a party

            and a photographer from the times was there

            to take his picture for the society page.

                        so i hung up.

you can’t have bad taste forever.

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