THE DISPOSABLE CAMERA,
a yellow point and shoot,
captures twenty seven frames.
When time comes
I’ll develop them,
writing little blurbs
in chicken scratch
on the back,
reminding me of loved
ones, where my weary
legs traveled, of sunsets
that sank and sank
again.
Eric, cigarette plus shades
Brynna, wetsuit off the South Shore
Dad, beneath the skateboard rack
Prospect beach stretch, empty
Forget me nots
I can almost hear
laughter, the lull
of a quiet shore
after the sun has
shattered through
the world’s floor
and sunk beneath
Superior to a
long night’s rest.
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