Oil Painting Class.

His laugh rang loud,
Sweeping fast between the paintbrushes,
The easels, the grime that layered every inch.
Heads turned fast and stopped
Flickering between the model and their paper.
We giggled at our distraction,
wanting to create a mess
Out of structure and diligence
And the teacher pulls us back to our task.
We roll our eyes and scribble with our paintbrushes
Eyeing each other and grinning,
Until our grins spill over
Our bubbling laughs boiling like a pot.
We spit and hiss and melt into each other.

*Note: This painting isn't actually done with oil paints. I have many oil paintings, however they are in a temporary storage area. However, this painting was done around the time I wrote this poem.*