A chance to look inward
would be the positive spin on all of this.
But for now I’m tired
and only remembering
when curbsides were not challenges
and escalators not wretched monoliths
awaiting my downfall.
Recalling the days when
my camera delivered sharply-focused studies
of ones dear to me
as well as strangers at bus stops,
instead of a relic lying in storage,
awaiting other hands,
There was a time when
the details were not lost to me.
My take on the world was undistorted:
some would say acute.
Uncovering the subtleties
was something I did rather well.
It seems now
I must imprint these images
in other ways.
And I will get there.
Just not today.