Photo Shop 2 Poem by Morgan Michaels

Yes, from its canted perspective
you take from the image the sense
that the ground is immensely far down-
dazzlingly so, in fact,
yet it isn't, really- there's barely more than a meter
between his desperate toes and the street, below.

So, though much of the photo's impact (really)
comes from a fake sense of delirious,
death-defying height,
it's really just an illusion of Art,
purposeful or chance.

But, hey, wait a minute,
I recognize that bridge
arching that late-century allee! It's in Tribeca!
And those cars motoring the distance...
where the allee exits in the avenue...
Haven't I stood at that very spot?
Maybe during some parade
Haven't I stared down that same allee,
beneath that same bridge, to the avenue beyond?
Ninth, is it, or Tenth?

Just which, I shall determine
through further scrutiny,
later at home. There is a space on my wall
where twill show quite well, it will-
It isn't pricey
and the wife is expecting, after all.

Yes, I will leave the best little chop house in Chelsea
in the light, light rain
with the photo tucked under my arm
headed for the train
where I shall explain to the rider beside me
(exactly as I've done now for you)
the photo's various merits, purposeful or chance
and how a good photo in one moment finds a forever.