SCAVENGERS (assigned V2)

Kodak is the fashion here,

As if a sunset's souvenir


Could capture in a len's rim

That mass-produced delirium 


Which, from a clichè of the sun,

Sparks an unmailable phenomenon,


As if ginger, rum, and peach

Could make the mouth an island beach,


Or the gelatin of a stamped-out print

Could gloss the ocean's endless glint,


The Coppertone and flowered sweat

Even aging bodies don't forget,


But foreign to the paparazzis 

Targeting the tchotchkles,


Those who document their vision

With a camera's blind precision,


Invariably missing, unfocused and inchoate, 

In a distant crowd, the watching poet.