Naked

My camera is naked.

Similar to a #2 pencil that took off her yellow coat and stated enough of this traditional garb. The owner sipping her water from a plastic bottle that’s no longer transparent. She thought about what that water looked like, but concluded it tasted the same with every gulp and besides it now appeared like she was drinking soda. My camera is naked and why not let it prance around held by two hands who turn it this way and that. No one else knows though how much she cherishes that nakedness she’s holding. How much better she really can see now with it in her hands. In fact she’s becoming naked, too. I’m not a stripped pencil though or an alien with yellow bubbles in her veins walking past a bookstore and thinking about one of those types of books. I do lean towards knowing the invisible nakedness of others. I do enjoy what my camera has to say and I understand it enough to have her look.

The bookstore opens and I peer into the window just as someone glances up with a peculiar expression on their face. I think in that momentary glance with my naked camera balanced in one hand and his book being held in a v formation, open and exposed, we both understand that many things have qualities of nakedness. With that I smile into his enlightened eyes and he returns my expression.