David Subacchi

In those days Raymond was the media
Or the medium, apparently
Either singular or plural will do
In modern English, yet very few care
About such things and Raymond would not have,
With a battered Nikon around his neck,
The worn leather strap threatening to break
If subjected to the slightest impact.

When anything happened in town, Raymond
Was quickly on the scene, as if summoned
By a demanding angelic vision;
Highway collisions, fires, protest marches,
Weddings, funerals and celebrations;
In his grubby slept-in suit and old shoes,
Necktie never straight, cigarette hanging
From urgent lips that mumbled ‘Excuse me’

Crowds would part politely, ‘Here comes Raymond’
They’d say, ‘Something big must be happening,
Let the guy through, watch out for that big lens’
Yes in those days Raymond was the media,
His pictures adorned the local paper
And though he is twenty years gone now,
Little is known about his private life,
Which they say, is what he would have wanted.