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.