purple surveillance video

they watch me through lavender 
as i enter each store.
take notes on my walking pace
& the people near by.
they take a crayon & add creatures
to the edges of the screen.
sitting in a tower of a thousand screens
some of which are buzzing with snow.
some of which play videos 
of me as a young girl dressed 
in a pumpkin suite, running on the hardwood floor
of the old house. another shows me
laying in the bath tub surrounded by 
rubber ducks. they keep track 
of me-- somewhere between angel 
& god. they're not making a film 
they're making a mix 
of all the pieces of my movement.
the cameras blink. 
the cameras buzz. the cameras 
are soft & careful so i pet one
behind the ears. my dad used to say
you should only be scared
of being watched if you're
doing something wrong. i must be doing 
so many things wrong
at any given moment.
something i wonder if this will make
a nice video. twelve hours 
of my body entering grocery stores
all strung together.
note the ones late at night.
note the ones where i'm flanked by bubbles
& the ones where i am underwater 
(that's just a special effect).
they make a CGI T-Rex in my front yard
& i wave to it even though
it's kind of invisible. the neighbor think
i'm waving to him but i don't correct
him that my greeting belongs to the T-Rex.
i wonder what his watcher is doing 
with his life-- if maybe he has bigger plans
for the video. i know that i'm always
going to be seen through some shade
of purple because i'm terribly 
afraid of being caught & there's something
afraid about the color purple--
like it knows it's going to be caught
doing something terrible. 
i'm careful.
i treat cameras with kindness.
i make offerings of pressed flowers 
& old shoes-- tell 
the watchers i do not have 
a single cruel thought
that could be caught.