I laugh to myself at photos
Of end-standers who suppose
They wouldn’t make the cut unless they lean,
If they evened out their weight, they’d be unseen.

These end-standers lean in as if there was some pull
Of gravity or something at the time of the lull
In conversation when everyone jointly said cheese
Then smiled to wait for the moment to freeze.

But the capturer captures a good inch or so
Of background, around those who don’t even know
That their purpose in leaning is not to be seen
But grant me enjoyment in viewing their lean.


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