Armchair Paparazzo



Armchair Paparazzo


You have come to state

this obsession

thought often

fought upon

fawn til dawn

over this red carpet

rolled out for everyone.


And I roll my eyes.


Bowing down

to the Hollywood elite

kissing feet

shoed by designers

whose names

never sound the way they spell them.


The intervention comes

as quick as the questions

from the mouth of Joan Rivers’ river.

Plastic answers, rehearsed

calling out your name

and the flash of cameras

faking the light.


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