I used to go into town on weekends
to shoot in black and white
people strolling, kids breaking free,
dogs or cars or funny things
that caught my needy eye.

Now I just shoot ghosts
along the plague scoured streets
and empty parking lots,
lucky for a distant shot of life
in the few unshuttered shops.

Sitting on a sunny bench
having coffee and a smoke,
it's like she's been waiting for me
to come around the corner
and capture her solitary tenure.  

She smiles herself into the corner
giving me the damp dark curls
beneath her outstretched
sleeveless arm, blue-tipped fingers
stroking the back rail. 

I shoot and shoot again
as she shifts and poses, teasing
my camera's hungry eye.
She arches her back, taut white tank
proclaiming the piercings beneath.

A horn blares from the street
and with a wave, she scrambles up.
"See ya," she says, "that was fun."
then struts her way across
to the black truck that pulls out and away 

Standing alone, I let my camera dangle
and touch myself, pressing
into the damp cloth covering
the loneliness and desire
I try to ignore like the wolf howling at the door.