Everybody is afraid of the photographer
because of the photos he takes.
The photos reveal something about them
that is discomforting
a bad light covered under the tree masks the beauty of her smile
a pimple below the cheek reveals itself instead
a grimace on the face, when she is next to her boyfriend
a forced artificial smile, when he is next to his wife.
The photographer continues to take pictures,
makes mention others are scared to make.
And they ask him to retake the picture
and the same picture remains.
They request another angle, coming from another side.
They request another pose, sitting with their knees bent facing behind.
They request he stops and conclude he is bad with what he does.
But the photographer is professional
possesing no special lens or technique
capable of understanding that his eye simply aims
and the button is pressed at a random time.
The pictures reveal not of a truth of ugliness
but a show of sadness firmly denied for many years
and covered by lies therefore making it harder to accept
and holding them accountable for the face they always made.
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