A Poem a Day (519): Snow road

 
Snow road
 
What’s it like to be followed,
live your life under the paparazzi,
have your every move read out loud,
portions embellished for amusement,
a coffee book of your inside self?
But you didn’t give permission.
 
I see you looking for a way out,
but you’d need to walk back a decade
for the peace of mind you used to know,
the privacy, an anonymity of being.
 
You live inside this aperture, the
narrow space the camera lets you have –
in focus, out, it’s all the same. The game
set up, already played, you find your space
on the board, every pawn assembled.
Snakes and Ladders has fairer rules.
 
You don’t know how much time you have,
so you fill it with everyone you know.
 
There’s a car stuck at the end of the road.
The driver sits, hidden by silver birch,
but you can sense him contemplating.
Beyond, the road breaks, runs out,
but the car blocks the view. Snow drifts.
Summer sells itself short. All things
 
shapeshift, blur out of focus. There’s
just the road where things happen.
The day makes choices and clicks the
shutter back. A red deer is crossing.
Its black eyes mark the observer.
Caught in headlights, it won’t move,
only linger, not knowing where to go.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, June 19, 2022