The Photographer

I can ease your pain,

Let me undress your frilly shell.

I can take your picture,

Hang it on my refrigerator,

With one of those magnet wooden clothespins.

So I can wake up everyday.


I want you to come alive,

To wake up yourself,

Into the sandy wrinkled sheets of an island,

You and I, to let your straps peel where the sun shies.

Reveal & relive,

I’m here to capture your intoned essence,

With or without the help of coconut bikinis.

I am scratching metal for something beautiful,

Something to replace the picture I have in my mind.

In fact, I’m hoping I can transfer it out,

So I can hold that picture,

And melt it into something recycled, but new.

I am the photographer,

With blazing pains,

But behind the lens.

Here, I am supposedly cool, Easing your own pains.

Sometimes I want to hand the camera to you,

And pose for myself,

Let the animal work its way out.

Take the picture,

Clip it to my refrigerator

Next to yours,

So we can call each other

Such wild things.

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