I could  hardly       explain transgressive art;
              hell, I could barely spell
it; so I tried turning her onto Joy    ***.
She hated it; I don't know  if it was Ian
or the fingernails on blackboard
beat;                          I should have played the Smiths:
she only understood bad art,                   which   I find
offensive;                     I took her to a Balthus show,
explaining                  that he was rich
          *******,   so she
started dating a *******;      not me,
I *******          hate Balthus but I like
some of             his painting [they displayed his entire juvenile
       graphic novel                         about his pet kitten]
otherwise I                              wouldn't have bothered
bringing her :                to MOMA - she started dating
something                            like my evil twin - or the
fake evil twin / the opposite of everything I am existentially [something of a vaporous gas
who pretends [          ]           to be a soulless                friend - [always a stranger best dead
          somewhat like Judas];
[I blame the Jews -              or at least     that                one Jew]