Portraits/1

after Luc Delahaye

Imagine yourself homeless in a photo booth. Outside
waits the photographer who promised not to look
while you compose yourself, a ghost in the machine.

After he leaves, taking your likeness, leaving you
heavy in your tabernacle coat, you recall
lectures in college, Descartes, mind separated,

egg from shell, and wonder where you are. Wandering
mind is to body as body is to home, foolish to remove
one as if the other could survive.

Windows of the coffeehouse conjure a mirage – you inside : you
out – christened in the rising steam :
standing in the long and empty street.

Abide, you tell yourself,
but waiting hurts, desire sharp as hunger in the gut.

 

Photo from http://www.artnet.com/magazine/features/sullivan/sullivan4-10-03.asp