Musee D'orsay

First published in Lousy Beatnik, 2009

Inside. Greened girders gird the walls. A stained-glass Gilbert & George. Below the Roman numbers and glass of the clock sit tired tourists, apathetic artists, bored berets. Feeding time at the gallery. A gallery café, café gallery.

Art and Food

• Sun-blushed tomatoes and Monet

• Half-avocado and Vermeer

• Vin rouge et Van Gogh

• Lunch and Munch

This used to be a train station, this place. On and off. Off and on. The trains ran through then stopped stopping. Ran past. It ran down. Darker and darker it got. Dusty then dirty. Cobwebs collected.

Orson Welles turned up, did a turn, made, The Trial here. Did it up a bit, Hollywoodland for a few weeks. Scrubbed up not bad. Grips and gaffers, guys & dolls, cameras, booms and busts. The clackerboards clacked and cut. Cast back into black and white.

This place needs
brightening up a bit
lick of paint
some paintings
a sculpture or two – I know a sculptor or two
white walls
ticket desk
ticking clock
take out the tracks –
this place is going somewhere!