Do you ever wonder about the people
who used to be in pictures?
Not that Mona Lisa smile but-
perhaps her sister,
Who walked out of frame to get herself some air
Comes back to her kin arranged in her chair
And that's the face you know.

Slippery shore, an empty scene
A point which was painted and frozen in time
But before that point, who fell to the brine?
A child lost, a man of the sea
Once was standing, clear to see
but that's not the view you know.

A picture's a snapshot, just one moment's prize
But if a moment exists, then there'd been one to miss
And imagine the scene which
almost was seen:
(The Thinker was nearly 'The Sneezer' instead
not Starry Night but 'Clouds Overhead')

So I like to see the masterpiece
Which never even was
A view or two they never drew or
a time before the camera threw
a light about their skin.

I've learned to see
by not seeing at all
(Origin of the original
and 'original' rethought)
To not look for what I'm looking for
but look for what I'm not.