Can you see it that nomadic crowd jostling
For space
Standing in front of their favourite icon
Shuffling from left to right
To get a better view.
The room sways with the heat
And iPhones click, flick
Behind knitted gloves.
Picasso does not smile back
He is too busy with his legacy
Now handled by many
While he sleeps in his Château
Graveyard.
Tatters of conversations
Continually talk of
Sexuality and his women,
Usually to the negative,
Other than those who
Might see beyond this
To the structure of drawing
And years of observation
That brought him to
This spot.
What do we take with us
Leaving for the streets,
A catalogue?