Poetry A Still Photograph

[Joey]

A stranger, you asked me
To take a picture of you
A shot of your warm, aching face
Aching to show beyond the photo
Your people the real you
The realest still, you can present

So they see you’re successful
And you can show you’re attractive
To issue a frame around your life
To own, to borrow, to steal
As being who you are?
At the moment, unreal.

I took the picture and with a flash
You were at my side to check my work
To see if I had found the person
You envisioned - your self
Your face still ached, but without the warmth
To see yourself, you would be amazed how cold you were

So wordlessly we walked off the clock
Back to the present time which moves
Back to our homes or wherever we went
A still photo couldn’t justly blur the moment
Time moves quickly, like you and me
As if I could focus the camera off life itself!

To see your cadence to being jet set - to being alive Don’t you think life is beautiful? Or do you think like me? Or like someone new to set new truths between us?

I picture life as being no object. As being perpetual, endless, and all at once so short? That to me says there is nothing worth still to capture. Memories move, and so do I.

Whenever I try to capture still life. My hands shake and my heart races. I’m afraid you aren’t what you expect, and it proves true. Every time.