Remember when we were walking with our two cameras down this street with a name I don't remember?

And neither of us knew where we were or where we were going, and the lady at the coffee shop made you a special chai and her red lipstick was a like a triangle in the crook between her lips and we watched a family hoist each other above their heads in Central Park which is where my camera stopped working and we hid below the overhang of a tall building while I tried to dislodge the film and by the time we got to the museum, I'd forgotten about that business and shot a lot of photos that disintegrated upon recognition? 

Didn't it start to rain and didn't the day turn the bottom of a tennis shoe and didn't we take the subway instead and where did we go next? This wasn't the day that we rode two ferries across two bodies of water neither of us could name and that lady wore the dress so hot pink it was berries & chili powder & bathing suit and she kept looking in her purse while the man beside her looked at her while we looked at him and we both took pictures of them and I love them all and of course I'm talking about the photos and of course I'm talking about loving them for them as people and these bodies in which breath is stored until it's too full of darkness to be held any longer and that having nothing to do with the photos and I think we both made images of a different woman's feet inside the door of the mostly empty boat and it was so beautiful her feet sitting at the bottom of her legs like fishes and the seating of the ferry was church pews but plastic and where did we get off that boat, that wasn't the same day, was it?

Or was it the day we walked past the water running down the side of a building and I got as close as I could to it and put my camera up to my eye and decided it was a waste of a photo and yet here I am a year later thinking about it and thinking about how we got locked out of the apartment to which neither of us had a key and we were on the fire escape and I hadn't seen you in so long before those few minutes and there was a garden below us but there were no stairs and no ladders and no water and no phones and no keys and I don't know about you but I was wondering which of us was going to climb down and even if we made it where would we go next or maybe we would holler but then the window was unlocked thank goodness and thank goodness we spent that two minutes looking at each other alone atop a garden because I will never forget the face you made and now I realize that I probably made a face too though I'm never any good at imagining my own face but you know this because didn't we talk about the face I made when the guy in the picture above, the one where he's loading lettuce in plastic bins over and over again and his body is making the shapes but it's not about his body no it's the movement the unacknowledged movement of our bodies and how they take so much unconscious thought but thought nonetheless just to do the simplest tasks like put your toe in your mouth which is your favorite or tug on your eyelashes which is one of mine and didn't he yell at me and didn't he ask what the fuck I was doing and really what the fuck was I doing because I tell you now I don't know most of the time because I'm mostly fumbling through trying to get my unconscious hands to grasp something cotton or air-conditioned or the side of a bridge off of which I lodge myself pretty much every day and can't you understand that because I know you can can't you and can't you remember his leaning into the shadow of the van and the flash of denim in the sunshine and the way the van was reflected in the glass of the shop past the sidewalk because we both wanted to save savor savior that moment of our shared seeing I mean we're doing it again right now aren't we minus the danger well minus the danger of his body becoming so much larger than ours and his posture so still and my mouth so standing face-to-face with him even as our bodies fled? 

Isn't that what happened and weren't you scared and wasn't I scared too though I didn't tell you that until much later and was the photo worth it I mean look at it sit on the page on the paper on the screen and say nothing of the little crossword puzzle that's been forming and forging between us as friends such deeply considered puzzled friends the two of us, Bashfulleigh, isn't that the moment a single moment like so many others that we've lost or not or found and lost on purpose and isn't this us this sharing and isn't that why and isn't that when and what and who and how too?