"Sir,
Do you want
Your photo taken
And be developed?"
Asked by the old man.
Say, more or less
Fourty? Yet,
He's bringing
His Canon camera
To the tourist's attention.
Attenuation...
Foreigners,
They come and go.
Locals,
Go with the flow.
Nobody seems
To care.
An old camera,
This weary photographer,
I wonder how long
He's been standing there.
I wonder how long he's been
Roaming around the Rizal Park.
Ah! Parks lack luster.
Parks are dull.
I'd rather go to the mall.
I'd go and see a movie.
What's the latest today?
Maybe I should watch an indie
Or eat at a restaurant
Whatever, I don't know?
Wherever the wind blows!
I do it to kill time,
Because time's killing me!
I bet it's futile!
Everybody's got their smartphone.
Who needs that antique?
These youngsters,
They will never understand
The feeling of anticipation
And excitement
Of waiting for an image
Embedded on film
To be turned to
A remarkable imprint
Submerged in chemicals
In that bloody red room.
They will never comprehend
That it takes talent
And intuition
To capture the world
In a click,
In a flash,
In a heartbeat!
That I realize
Maybe it's best
If I could spare
A minute or so
And have my photo
Taken by this old man.
And just as I pull out
My wallet
I hear the
Clink! Clank!
Sound of coins
And felt sad
And watch the old man
Walk away.
Searching
And hoping
For prospects
And ask them,
"Sir?
Do you want
Your photo taken
And be developed?"