Like a drayad.
the camera flashed and forgot.
i, on the other hand, must practice my absentmindedness, memory being ackward as a touch that goes unloved.
Lately your eyes have shut down to a shade more durable than skin's.
i know you love distance, how it smooths.
you choose an aerial view,
the city angled to abstraction
while i go for the close exposure:
poorly mounted countenances along broadway.
The pigweed cracking each hardscrabble backlot
it's a matter of perspective:
yours is to love me.
from a block away & mine is to praise the graininess that weaves expressively: your face.
