13inchesofboyd (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} 13inchesofboyd) wrote,@ 2008-06-30 16:04:00 |
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Parade
The photographer bounces around
the parade like a dropped marble
or a cast ribbon in frenzied wind,
with every click he births another
tiny mystery, wrapped in a puff
of black smoke like a blanket:
why does the twirling girl's smile
ebb before reaching her eyes or
why does the man in the purple
mask look off into the distance?
But then the moment shatters,
the photographer moves again,
the parade's chaos all around
like a continuously-crashing wave.
This must be what dolphins feel
like: the overwhelming insanity
of the moment leaping into air,
then the crushing stillness and
quiet of past and future beneath
the ocean surface.
The photographer bounces around
the parade like a dropped marble
or a cast ribbon in frenzied wind,
with every click he births another
tiny mystery, wrapped in a puff
of black smoke like a blanket:
why does the twirling girl's smile
ebb before reaching her eyes or
why does the man in the purple
mask look off into the distance?
But then the moment shatters,
the photographer moves again,
the parade's chaos all around
like a continuously-crashing wave.
This must be what dolphins feel
like: the overwhelming insanity
of the moment leaping into air,
then the crushing stillness and
quiet of past and future beneath
the ocean surface.
