Ten paintings are
Wrapped for transport,
Wedged in the trunk
And seats
Of my car
And taken to
The new photographer
Replacing a woman
No longer
To be found.
The usual jumble
Of rooms
Cobbled together,
Steps up and down
Props and tripods
And backdrops hulk
Under the glare
Of powerful lights
And silver umbrellas.
Shots of
Impossibly elaborate
Weddings
Dot every wall.
The couples
Gaze raptly
Into the
Lover’s eyes
Or vigorously kiss,
The groom masterful
The bride radiant.
I wonder if
Any lasted beyond
The first anniversary.
I decline coffee, tea,
Water and soda,
Pet the friendly Corgi
Leashed to an office chair
And study this new fellow,
Big, muscular, ex-Navy,
Thirty-three years
In the trade.
He grips
The huge camera,
Lenses extended,
And shoots
Digital images
One by one
As I hand them over
And they are positioned
On black cloth.
At last
They all are done.
I rewrap, repack,
Accept the CD,
Pay all I can endure
And drive home,
Exhausted.