caught.
oh, those marching minutes...
never still, but on parchment.
a photograph.
just paper,
reacting to chemicals
and the starvation of light
between the spaces.
capturing a moment,
sans meaning,
at the time.
a girl's grace--
stepping out of a vehicle,
i caught her face.
love was a season.
warm,
then inclement--
uninhabitable.
an empty street,
policing...
ushering drunk, stumbling leaves
along an asphalt body.
moments pass.
some collected,
some burned.
[which moment are you?]
NB @ 3:40 PM
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