It’s Sunday and thunderstorm and flash flood warnings are on the radar. I enter another world with my camera.
No droning certitudes of opinions passing through my airwaves here, only the faraway concussion of thunder and irritated bees dive bombing my lens.
Get out of here. I hear you. I’ll leave you to your wonders. In a minute.
I talk back.
They arrest me.
©Pat Coakley 2009
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