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And here’s Dot (what a great name for Seurat’s love) trying to decide between loving the Artist (George) and living her own life
Louis is really an artist:
Louis’ cakes are an art.
Louis isn’t the smartest-
Louis’ popular.
Everybody loves Louis,
Louis bakes from the heart…
The bread, George.
I mean the bread, George.
And then in bed, George…
I mean he kneads me-
I mean like dough, George…
Hello, George…
Louis is always so pleasant,
Louis’ always so fair.
Louis makes you feel present,
Louis’ generous.
That’s the thing about Louis
Louis always is “there.”
Louis’ thoughts are not hard to follow,
Louis’ art is not hard to swallow.
Not that Louis’ perfection-
That’s what makes him ideal.
Hardly anything worth objection:
Louis drinks a bit,
Louis blinks a bit.
Louis makes a connection,
That’s the thing that you feel…
We lose things.
And then we choose things.
And there are Louis’s
And there are Georges-
Well, Louis’s
And George.
But George has George,
And I need-
Someone-