DOING THE HONORABLE THING

I adore this photograph of Danny Kaye. 

But it reminds me of my disappointment

in the colors of the world, which don’t 

seem as vibrant and rich. How can 

a photograph be more colorful than

the world it photographs? I suppose

it is because of the photographer. 

I believe that they act in secret ways

somewhere between Danny Kaye

in the world about to be photographed

and the point I am at right now as

I look at Danny Kaye in a photograph. 

It is also possible that it is Danny Kaye

who does this. That it is something

about Danny Kaye. But I have other

photographs, other times that I look

at the world, other disappointments.

I even find myself disappointed in the color 

of lipstick on a dresser, after having seen 

Lucille Ball applying lipstick to herself

in a photograph. I would prefer to see

the lipstick of Lucille Ball applied to herself 

in a photograph than to see lipstick on the dresser 

resting and nothing before me. Perhaps I am just 

afraid of what the world looks like without 

lipstick. Or of finding myself in a pink room

without Danny Kaye. A pink room without 

his pink carnation and lavender cravat and 

ivory cigarette holder and seven beautiful women

attending him and strawberry parfaits and a hair brush–

finding only myself, and an empty pink room. Or lipstick,

flattened slightly, having been applied, but to whom, why,

when–I don’t know. Faded. Lucille Ball, nowhere. Often 

I only open my eyes when someone puts a photograph 

in my hand. I feel the photograph and am happy to open 

my eyes. I open my eyes and look at the world closely. 

And I close my eyes in order to leave. Is it the same, for you?