Art Class

It wasn't fun. A drag actually.
The picture didn't speak. The colors hung limp like laundry in the rain. The towels dripping into puddles of mud.
I sat there, high on my stool over-looking San Francisco wondering why I couldn't find the beauty.
Where is the motion? The swirling lights? The tumbling wheel of life?
I mastered the trees. Green, upon green, upon green.
But give me a house and the dimension of a family within was flat. Mother, father, sister, brother walking stiffly through the square doorways. Shades drawn. Never caring to venture out into the deeply shadowed city, menacing under the palette-blue sky.

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