sorry to disturb your solitude

to a man who sees his target
through a lens
solitude may look like the tiny
opening of a flower after it rains,
a nearly invisible owl at noon

today it looked like a girl
taken by a book and lost
in the ever revolving movement
of a life outside of a lens

and when he apologized
for directing his focus away from me,
while near me,
I told him I was leaving anyways
because I am always leaving

and when the path I left on
became clouded and skewed,
I cleaned the lenses
that I look through everyday
but a target never appeared


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