Thief On The Paris Bridge
© Surazeus
2018 07 29
Pausing on the bridge of huge marble blocks,
erected on lattice grid of steel beams,
Darlene turns her back on the broad black river
and holds the smart phone out to snap the selfie
of her slender freckled face and red hair
against the backdrop of tall shining towers.
Laughing with delight as she views her face,
the innocent tourist in a glamorous city,
Darlene posts her selfie on Instagram,
along with the phrase in ironic quotes,
"Life is a journey to discover your self,"
then giggles with joy while she watches how
the number of likes multiplies like flies
when her thousands of followers and friends
all over the world post comments of love.
"Where are you now?" dozens of her friends ask,
so she replies, fingers tapping each key
as she leans on the marble balustrade
in cool summer breeze wafting off the river
to blow whisps of red curls around her cheeks,
"I am in Paris for the summer program,
studying epic poems in French literature,
because I won the letters scholarship
from my state university in Georgia,
and I work at a photo art gallery."
The shadow of the crow low overhead
flashes across the screen of her smart phone,
so Darlene looks up and sees on the bridge
moving toward her within the crowd of tourists
a tall slender teenage boy from Africa
who wears a hoody and stares in her eyes,
so she turns away and vows to herself
that she will not profile the unknown stranger
nor stereotype him as some criminal
just because he is black and wears a hoody.
When he stops and leans on the balustrade
to show her the gun hidden in his jacket,
and demands that she give him her smart phone,
Darlene sighs in disappointment, then laughs,
and asks him, "What would you do with your life
if you did not have to steal to make money,
because I tried to see you as an artist,
like the photographer who loves the world,
capturing images of people in places
that reveal our search for meaning in life,
because I know you are more than a thief."
Gazing out at the river shining black
in afternoon sunlight that glows on trees,
the boy hides the gun and sighs in despair,
"My family escaped genocide in Rwanda,
sailing in small boat across Sea of Death,
where we landed in Marseilles, seeking refuge,
but though we were given housing and food,
and I attended school to study French,
people attacked us and called us cruel names,
then my father who worked as a janitor
was beaten to death walking home at midnight,
and my mother jumped out apartment window,
so now I must steal so I can eat food."
Gazing at his eyes that flash with despair,
Darlene places her soft hand on his shoulder,
then gives him her expensive camera
her father bought her for her sixteenth birthday,
and smiles, "Take pictures with this camera
to capture vision of the life you lead,
the streets, the places, the houses, the faces
of refugees from wars in Africa,
then take your photos to this gallery
where I work, at the address on this card,
and we will display your work in a show,
so you can earn money as a journalist."
Surprised at her generous offer, the boy
accepts the camera with murmured thanks,
then walks back across tourist-crowded bridge
and disappears among the bobbing heads,
and for a moment Darlene wonders if
he will take photos of his wretched life,
or if he will just sell it for some cash,
then continues on her way back to school.
Three weeks later while she sits at the desk
in the photo gallery by the river,
the lost boy walks through the shining glass door,
and places the camera in her hands,
so she kisses his cheek with a wry grin,
then reviews the photos on camera disk,
expressing amazement at images
of the people with fascinating faces,
and the harsh conditions in which they live,
so she takes him into the process room
and shows him how to transform all his photos
from digits to large color photographs.
Framing his photos, they hang them on walls,
and stand together on opening night
when hundreds of artists and patrons gather
to drink wine and view the stark photographs,
taken by young artist Seraphin Shyaka,
that show conditions of poor refugees
who fled wars of genocide in Africa
which reveal how they still suffer in France.
Taking her hand after the show is done,
Seraphin smiles, "I owe you gratitude,
Darlene of Georgia, for believing in me,
and for giving me your precious camera
with mission to photograph harsh conditions
of my people who struggle to live well,
for you showed me with your generous love
how I could live better than stealing things,
by giving truth with the bold power of art."
Walking to the bridge of huge marble blocks,
erected on lattice grid of steel beams,
Darlene turns her back on the broad black river
and holds the smart phone out to snap the selfie
of her slender freckled face and red hair
beside the smiling face of Seraphin
against the backdrop of tall shining towers.
Laughing with delight as they view their faces,
the two best friends in a glamorous city,
Darlene posts their selfie on Instagram,
along with the phrase in ironic quotes,
"The friends you meet on the journey of life
live forever in the house of your heart
no matter how far apart you may go,"
then giggle with joy while they both watch how
the number of likes multiplies like flies
when her thousands of followers and friends
all over the world post comments of love.
After drinking wine together all evening
at the small cafe, posting photographs
on Instagram of his art gallery show,
Darlene and Seraphin hug and say goodbye,
then go their separate ways in the wide world,
but keep in touch on social media accounts.
© Surazeus
2018 07 29
Pausing on the bridge of huge marble blocks,
erected on lattice grid of steel beams,
Darlene turns her back on the broad black river
and holds the smart phone out to snap the selfie
of her slender freckled face and red hair
against the backdrop of tall shining towers.
Laughing with delight as she views her face,
the innocent tourist in a glamorous city,
Darlene posts her selfie on Instagram,
along with the phrase in ironic quotes,
"Life is a journey to discover your self,"
then giggles with joy while she watches how
the number of likes multiplies like flies
when her thousands of followers and friends
all over the world post comments of love.
"Where are you now?" dozens of her friends ask,
so she replies, fingers tapping each key
as she leans on the marble balustrade
in cool summer breeze wafting off the river
to blow whisps of red curls around her cheeks,
"I am in Paris for the summer program,
studying epic poems in French literature,
because I won the letters scholarship
from my state university in Georgia,
and I work at a photo art gallery."
The shadow of the crow low overhead
flashes across the screen of her smart phone,
so Darlene looks up and sees on the bridge
moving toward her within the crowd of tourists
a tall slender teenage boy from Africa
who wears a hoody and stares in her eyes,
so she turns away and vows to herself
that she will not profile the unknown stranger
nor stereotype him as some criminal
just because he is black and wears a hoody.
When he stops and leans on the balustrade
to show her the gun hidden in his jacket,
and demands that she give him her smart phone,
Darlene sighs in disappointment, then laughs,
and asks him, "What would you do with your life
if you did not have to steal to make money,
because I tried to see you as an artist,
like the photographer who loves the world,
capturing images of people in places
that reveal our search for meaning in life,
because I know you are more than a thief."
Gazing out at the river shining black
in afternoon sunlight that glows on trees,
the boy hides the gun and sighs in despair,
"My family escaped genocide in Rwanda,
sailing in small boat across Sea of Death,
where we landed in Marseilles, seeking refuge,
but though we were given housing and food,
and I attended school to study French,
people attacked us and called us cruel names,
then my father who worked as a janitor
was beaten to death walking home at midnight,
and my mother jumped out apartment window,
so now I must steal so I can eat food."
Gazing at his eyes that flash with despair,
Darlene places her soft hand on his shoulder,
then gives him her expensive camera
her father bought her for her sixteenth birthday,
and smiles, "Take pictures with this camera
to capture vision of the life you lead,
the streets, the places, the houses, the faces
of refugees from wars in Africa,
then take your photos to this gallery
where I work, at the address on this card,
and we will display your work in a show,
so you can earn money as a journalist."
Surprised at her generous offer, the boy
accepts the camera with murmured thanks,
then walks back across tourist-crowded bridge
and disappears among the bobbing heads,
and for a moment Darlene wonders if
he will take photos of his wretched life,
or if he will just sell it for some cash,
then continues on her way back to school.
Three weeks later while she sits at the desk
in the photo gallery by the river,
the lost boy walks through the shining glass door,
and places the camera in her hands,
so she kisses his cheek with a wry grin,
then reviews the photos on camera disk,
expressing amazement at images
of the people with fascinating faces,
and the harsh conditions in which they live,
so she takes him into the process room
and shows him how to transform all his photos
from digits to large color photographs.
Framing his photos, they hang them on walls,
and stand together on opening night
when hundreds of artists and patrons gather
to drink wine and view the stark photographs,
taken by young artist Seraphin Shyaka,
that show conditions of poor refugees
who fled wars of genocide in Africa
which reveal how they still suffer in France.
Taking her hand after the show is done,
Seraphin smiles, "I owe you gratitude,
Darlene of Georgia, for believing in me,
and for giving me your precious camera
with mission to photograph harsh conditions
of my people who struggle to live well,
for you showed me with your generous love
how I could live better than stealing things,
by giving truth with the bold power of art."
Walking to the bridge of huge marble blocks,
erected on lattice grid of steel beams,
Darlene turns her back on the broad black river
and holds the smart phone out to snap the selfie
of her slender freckled face and red hair
beside the smiling face of Seraphin
against the backdrop of tall shining towers.
Laughing with delight as they view their faces,
the two best friends in a glamorous city,
Darlene posts their selfie on Instagram,
along with the phrase in ironic quotes,
"The friends you meet on the journey of life
live forever in the house of your heart
no matter how far apart you may go,"
then giggle with joy while they both watch how
the number of likes multiplies like flies
when her thousands of followers and friends
all over the world post comments of love.
After drinking wine together all evening
at the small cafe, posting photographs
on Instagram of his art gallery show,
Darlene and Seraphin hug and say goodbye,
then go their separate ways in the wide world,
but keep in touch on social media accounts.
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