MANET POSES

She’s kickin’ mad for it like Baudelaire

Done time in prison and she doesn’t care

The painted canvas of her portrait cries

Up in the gallery despite her lies

If I don’t tell her she won’t know the truth

She set herself apart she’s so aloof

As fleeting as modernity methinks

Art Nouveau rings another round of drinks

A gin and tonic and she waves goodbye

As plastic dingle dangles from her eye

The evil flowers that destroyed her soul

Cemeteries that couldn’t make her whole

Roadside crosses planted with red roses

She paints her toes doing Manet poses

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