Blinking in the aftershock of
A thousand suns burning my eyes,
I let you capture me on film
Of permanence.  You just had to
Take my photograph, a lasting
Memory of when I was young,
Only a minute ago, when
Looks didn't matter.  It's not like
I want to hide from the world, a
Recluse afraid of her shadow,
Wondering if she's putting her
Best face forward.  (Sun's in my eyes,
Hair's taking off into the wind,
And doesn't the camera ADD
Something like ten pounds??  What I hear,
Anyway.)  So!  If you really
Must have my picture instead of
My poetry, don't say that you
Haven't been warned - this ain't gonna
Be pretty.  Ya gets what ya gets.

(c) 2006, Karla Dorman.  (9/26)