I knew this artist in college,
‘n it ain’t that big a deal,
ain’t a soul who don’t know an artist in college,
whether it’s the artist or the story-teller,
but I knew this artist.
‘n she hated to make art,
but when she did, she did, she did.
She told me once, she didn’t feel like the going was enough,
that she didn’t feel like it was enough to survive,
now I’d be lyin’ if said I didn’t love her, at least once, long time ago,
so I said, “when it comes right down to it,
all art is just survival, coping mechanisms for things too big for anything else.”
Dunno if it’s true, but I hope it is.
‘n I wrote her love poems I’m still showin’ to show off,
‘n I hang her portrait of me on the wall of every home.
I knew this artist in college.
