Wednesday, August 31, 2011

poem of the day 08.31.11


the photographers
are standing on the quiet street
with their digital cameras and sunshine faces

they are shielding their eyes
trying to get the perfect shot
of downed trees and smashed windows

the photographers
are laughing and having a good time

they have wide asses and wide smiles

they look as though they haven’t
a care in the world

they are taking photos of boarded up doors
and crushed cars

as people living on the quiet street
clean up tree branches and glass

they are getting dramatic shots
of cracked pavement and splintered word

the photographers are posing
for each other’s pictures

smiling in front an uprooted tree
that had probably been on this street
for at least one hundred years
before it suddenly became kindling

as old people sit on their porches
with coffee and blank faces
surveying the damage in their neighborhood

the photographers
are looking into their digital cameras
telling each other how wonderful their pictures are
how much the tv stations and newspapers
are paying for photos like theirs

the photographers
are talking about the radio station contest
for the most destructive hurricane scene
you can find

they are in the middle of the street
blocking the garbage men
and an ambulance that has its red lights flashing

the photographers
don’t even move an inch

they just stand there looking at their pictures
until it’s time to get back into their polished cars

off toward another destination
and another award winning snapshot.

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