motor eye | street. slam. camera.
The rain comes down. The city runs for cover. I’ve got one hand on the wheel, one eye on the road
the other guides my brain to shoot in the right direction — to figure out an angle, a shutter speed.
Something that makes sense.
The city runs and my windows drip, thick black rain echoes
the clouds up high as human form is displaced, shaped out of proportion by glass, water and motion.
Father and daughter huddled on a corner, pink overcoat and pink boots
blue umbrellas turning in the wind.
Motor eye in a peeping car, swallow streets unseen — vandalized.
The rain comes down and the city runs. I’m tryin’ to capture ghosts
before they fade