Humanities Education

Let's workshop this bitch!

Humanities

My wife and I once let a movie run almost 
an hour in blackness, glancing at each other 

now and then through dialogue and music,
through screaming and running footsteps.

Too educated to be philistines, we assumed
the point was to envision it all (art-house style).

Grave brows scrunched, we found ourselves
intrigued by the device—museum nodding

through a telling tale about a gullible gringo 
eating an entire rotten papaya in good cheer. 

But in the end, it became too much—yes,
even for us, pried open by the Humanities.

Merely an HDMI-cord glitch, we learned
after a jiggle, had the visuals not showing up.
 
Normal people would have caught the issue,
so it is easy to imagine, in two minutes—max. 

*This poem is unpublished

Painting: Interior with the Artist's Easel, by Vilhelm Hammershøi (1910)