the chill of the waters
jarred my bones, and my toes
grappled for some kind of hold on
that too-smooth rock. i probably
looked like some kind of
idiot, waddling bow-legged, straddling
a dark crack in the river bottom.

who knows how it felt to you. probably
like home, or something close
to it. you glided with ease through
the waves, gracefully carrying your camera
attached to its bulky tripod.

we never noticed it happen, but
we had adjusted to the river's
temperature. still, i felt awkward
the whole time. and you continued to look
glamorous: every angle of your camera,
and every angle of your face, every place
you stood, knelt, sat, leaned.... perfection.

why did you want that picture of me?
lord knows i probably broke
the camera with this mug of mine,
my face twisted into something resembling
confusion, or maybe pain, as i thought i was
fighting for my life in the current.

why did the leeches ignore me but cling to you?
do i taste bad? or is it because your blood type
tastes better than mine?

when you see how those pictures come out, i'm
afraid you'll be disappointed with how i came
out in the photo. maybe it will turn out ok, but
either way, i'll insist on coming back when
i'm not feeling so stupid. one of those
"perfect days," though i would describe today
as perfect, solely because i witnessed,
once again, your absolute perfection.