The Photography of Joseph Szabo

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My arms are wrapped fast around myself.
I hear my sister breathing loudly down the hall.
The Begonia is living.
Lenore is my friend.
There are cigarettes I hate on the dresser.
The door is wide open.
No on is coming in.
Steve is away, camping alone for four days.
My dog has a tumor.
My mother and father have jobs.
I don't.
I'm middle class in America.
I love my country.
I walk the streets at two A.M. nude.
No, I don't.
My older sister is married.
I will go to college and soon be an adult.
Ducks laugh in the pond at night when no one's there.
My other sister is a homosexual.
I can drive a car well.
I love the black sweater in the closet.
My father gave it to me.
I am seventeen and a spy.
My body is on the chair.
I don't shave my legs.
I am a woman.
It's autumn and cold outside.
Not inside.
My hands are ripe for you.
I cry.
I hate to go to sleep.
I love dessert and
    the sun going down on
the highway overpass.
Kiss me.

-Amy Smiley

© 1978-2006 Joseph Szabo. All rights reserved.

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