Upon Gazing At A Painted Chef D'oeuvre Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

or A Fan-Spun-Painted Masterpiece

It's amazing how differently
we see things.
I take in your abstraction.

Love its post-modernistic
modus operandi expressionist panache
and stylized execution.

Upon intellectually probing further
tongue-in-only-cheek
the first thing that comes to mind

is my last endoscopy
with lustrous vistas of my insides
flagrantly displayed on the monitor.

And, in a flash of the quick wrist motion
of the medical attendant
I noticed my butt hair never seen before.

Of course you're no longer laughing
at my remarks but then
I am not subjective as you are

since the contents of your work
are nebulous and vastly contortionist
with suggestive Van Dyke hues.

That is unless my eyes need drops
of tetrahydrozoline hydrochloride
to diminish the red abstract zigzags.