Sat,with that automatic digital snapper,
no larger than a fag packet,
nestling among the static fluff stuffed in your pocket.
You got bored waiting so long……....
for that correct configuration
of light and shade come on song.
The next woman wiggling past in the rain,
who must be walking a dog,
which must be black as night,
or a St.Bernard with a barrel tied,
and she’ll stoop to do up her shoe
while the dog squats, does its do do’s………
so you read the paper.
.........Looking up you see it straight in front, like déjà vu.
Too late! A clueless fumble, fingers tangled
among a jumble of loose change, ancient bus tickets,
a receipt from Sainsbury’s, but already you know,
your only as good as all those photo’s in the minds eye,
and on most days your mind's eye is blind.
By the time you point the camera
you can’t find her anywhere,
and anyhow, dogs won't do what you want them to do