What’s in a Name?

I expected to run into a guy in snug black jeans.
With blonde, pony- tailed hair, tucked under a baseball cap.

He’d be walking slowly along the trail,
Tripod slung over one shoulder.
Dark shades barely hiding a haughty attitude.
--
Didn’t happen.

Instead, I spotted an old guy wearing a floppy hat.
With pale white legs poking out from faded shorts.
Velcro shoes squeaking as he walked along,
Camera banging against his Outlaw Photography T-shirt,