Gesso
He said he always uses gesso first So the paint on top won’t crack And here I am dizzy in the tunnel Lights dividing like swimmer’s lane lines And I take to the diver’s block and put my hands to the edge and I I want to call him And tell him that I’m afraid of it all disappearing And I don’t even know what “it” is But maybe it would clump in my brush Like the oil that wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place And on the edge of my desk, a red party cup full of paint thinner And he’s so thin and worn that when we hug I can feel his paintbrush ribs against my breasts And...
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