I cannot click photographs

Every time I try, the image slips away from me
It’s not that hard to understand, really

because if you imagine yourself waiting
for hours
as time becomes redundant
like an insipid advertisement
to catch your fish and end up missing it
just at the moment of pulling the reel,
you will know what I mean.

But you try, and mostly you succeed
you tell me to look for lines
or doors and windows,
something to focus,
to set an angle

to turn the image into a photograph

And I am not quite sure of how to do that
there are oceans everywhere for me,
an excess of existence that is always slipping away
words are always too many to be writing selectively,

images most often blur into each other
the fish cause a chaos over crumbs of bread
the reel entangles itself with my cotton shirt
until that one moment passes off,
full of scorn,

a drunkard’s shaming.