my early history
was of quantity over quality
pictures without people
a diary lacking emotion
of things done and duties
movement and sounds
recorded without feeling
hte butterfly avoiding flowers
a fear of life’s nectar
I was the light-footed tourist
but now
you can’t take a selfie
without me muscling in
the front row pusher
a garfy smile
eyes
trying to dance
out of their sockets
a man slapped
hard on the ass
by life