I remember, most clearly,
how I held the camera, novice.
How I held the little tan box
with the wrong focal length.
Your peer. For an isness,
us both building the frame.
You took off from there
and I watched. Happy to be.
Fingers trace up my forearms and
follow the veins to the shutter.
Lined up, it all went "click"
while rain dirtied our shoulders.
I know that wreck. That barge sand barred and bright red with rust.
I know that touch. How can I express
that what I want is inside that picture,
that alignment of our "us".
