Rushed hands of the photographer
until I was uncomfortable on a tiny chair,
He darted forward to move
a lock of hair before it fell into my eyes.
I pretended to be a statue
or a doll with a painted-on smile,
but I blinked
as the flash seared my vision.
The photographer sighed, irritated,
and probably wished he could hold my eyelids open.
Instead he tried to distract me.
“Think of your boyfriend and smile big.
You got a boyfriend, right?”
If only he knew he was talking to
the most socially awkward
girl in this school.