PHOTOGRAPHY CLASS

I remember last year,
tracing the front page faces
as my friend,
who desperately hated the scene's intruders,
looked on,
and sitting in the darkroom,
admiring the corrosive smell
and waiting to see again
the things I had seen earlier.
It seemed strange to transfer those blots
from one light to another
and too many more after that.
When I could no longer perform
the foreordained exercises,
researched in haste to improve our craft,
I started drawing ducks,
and making fun of the newspaper.
I enjoyed the resources
but withered under direction.
I was always a misfit
when I had something to do.