VISITING HOURS A nice old man, visiting during visiting hours, of course doing a bit of research, examined them, sardonically making deep "Hmmmm," sounds. The eyes lived and moved like little sacks of potatoes in vaguely processional order blushed, looking unwashed. The same sweat a new shade. Only our fingertips touch manipulated switches. Counter. Click. The pinprick. Eventually, predictably other specimens destined for grunting, screaming, vomiting sucking. Spurting away each successive baby new and lost. Thundering blundering along the corridor to the doorway carrying a bottle borrowed from the cutlery drawer. A signal. A summons an endless lecture certificates, bucket seats retractors A few apologizing drips. The ruse and the ease. The implications of cytotoxics.
oil, mixed, collage on paper, 20" x 28"
JAMES W JOHNSON