Today I took a sewing class.

It took me ages to re-learn

How that bloody machine works.

My eyelids drop,

Like in front of an equation.

But I could become a seamstress

If my life depended on it.

And somehow I wish it did.

Later I explored

The Bushwick Open Studios,

Studying the makers

Rather than their work.

People are animated!

Unlike machines

And most art.

They all asked me about mine.

Do I look so obvious?

Or is it just assumed

That only artists

Would care enough to go?

Then how,

Pray tell,

Will we pay our bills?