(This was really really hard, and I'm not even sure why. Excuse the tardiness of this poem and the quality. Dedicated to that one guy who I caught staring at me when I was taking pictures downtown.)
Walking down the
street,
feeling weighed down
with the humidity
of the summer air
and lightened
by the smoke that
filled my lungs
and core,
a curious figure cuts
the scene of
bustling people
with a camera
in hand
stock still
in the middle of the sidewalk.
I gaze at her,
carefully,
cautiously,
so as not to bore
into her,
watch as she's enveloped
in the scene behind
her viewfinder.
Her eyes
flicker to mine,
and I drop my gaze,
rushing past her,
though I'm stuck wondering
what made her stop
on a hot mid-summer afternoon
to capture in
her camera.
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