For five days, the world treated Miami like it mattered. It bought us flowers and told us it liked our new haircut. It held open doors and called us at night just to say goodnight. But the smooth-talking world is shipping out today, and the only way we know to deal with the heartbreak is through poetry. So we asked the authors of Hialeah Haikus to pen a few 5-7-5 verses for the so-to-be lovelorn 305. Go on now, Art Basel, walk out the door. Just turn around now, 'cause you're not welcome anymore.
Here it is, our elegy to that beast Art Basel -- straight from the authors of that classic book of verse Hialeah Haikus:
"Never heard of it."
"Bro, Art Basel. On the Beach?"
"Is it like Ultra?"
Mind, eyes, corrupted.
He put body paint. Glitter.
That Swedish n*gga.
"Basel? Who'd you see?"
"Oh, everybody from Wall!"
"OMG, JEALOUS!"
Once a year we see...
"Wow, he really kind of sucks."
Romero Britto.
An empty glass box.
Sign read: "Buy me. I dare you."
One point two mil. Sold.
Exclusive parties.
Velvet ropes and VIPs.
Couple paintings too.
French, Swiss, Whatever.
Look at me like that again.
See what happens, bro.
"CROOK. MSG. CROME."
Bombed on 95 like HUGE!
Who needs Art Basel?!
Buy a copy of Hialeah Haikus at www.hialeahhaikus.com and follow them on Twitter.
