The painting seems quite ordinary,

Nothing I would hang, even in the downstairs loo.

But the man on the TV who faintly reminds me

Of a teacher that once taught me geography,

He anxiously twists his hands as he waits

For the verdict on what was left to him

By his dear old aunt who lived with ten cats.

The expert whistles between his buck teeth

As he surveys the canvas, the subject’s eyes

That peer out creepily, like she knows something I don’t.

I think it’s worth a million, breathes the expert quite suddenly

And the crowd break out into excited applause.

My geography teacher grabbed for the easel

Before dropping to the ground.

He never recovered and I wonder sometimes

Where all of that money would go

As they loaded him in to the back of the ambulance,

And the painting was quickly

Squirreled away.