Above my head a slate-blue sky
with a peach cauliflower of cloud
lying low on the horizon.
I stare at a glossy rectangle
showing a lone man silhouetted
against a flat, calm lake.
He is wearing a red T-shirt,
his arms hang limp at his side,
and shadow hides his face.
The photograph’s composition is poor,
and it lies not in an album but on an
expansive black driveway,
where it fluttered and landed
when the garbage was hauled to the curb.
Do I rescue him
even though I’ll never know his name?
As I lean over and peer at his likeness,
I cannot discern his expression
so I tug my dog’s leach, say the single word,
and continue toward my home.