235

A man without an ear

Was photographing my face

His left ear was bandaged

With ivory white gauze

And no trickles of blood

His flash would go off

Replicating my self

My features

My ears

He was an elder man

With greying hairs

And an aged-wisdom look

Dressed in slacks of burnt sienna

And a light weight top

Photographing me

...As if I was unaware of the events

...The past

At 235 he got Brazilian

At 130 a break from the day

He got kisses and luxury cigar smoking ladies

At 235 he was half-a-man

At 130 a traffic light shadow

A Van Gough look-a-like

Amusing himself to death

Around central neon

And upward steps

Laughter paid

The illegals scattered

The reggae made old stiff

And young, younger

At 235 he was sorry

At 130 better

© 1998 David Greg Harth

1998.08.09.00:00:00@FrontSt/WhiteSands Bermuda