To the Young Woman
Behind the Glass

I’m sorry, darling,
but I don’t think these people
will all move so that you can
photograph the Brooklyn Bridge.
Yet each time you lower your lens,
you yearn for them to do so.
Perhaps if you treated them
as part of this place,
as two cupped hands,
dipped and raised from
a stream that’s run for decades.
What might you see then?