I am reminded of why I take pictures of flowers
with each intrusive click of the camera
the sky has a hungry air - ribbed white clouds -
above an unusual stillness in centenary square
there are professionals circling
looking for the money shot of a woman crying
and one man consciously edges out of my pictures
despite my consciously not edging him in
what looks exchange are thin as the upper atmosphere
equilibrium rushing to fill a vacuum
The Blue Book
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