Polaroid

I remember taking Polaroids with you

In the driveway of the house you’ve now sold

On a grey afternoon that looked like night

In the photos. We’d wait impatiently

As color seeped into white

And our posing forms revealed themselves. Somehow,

We never grew tired of taking each other’s picture. 

You don’t see me looking now, as you lean

Against the radiator that’s blowing your hair like a wind machine,

Your too-shiny lips twisted into a smile. The kind of moment

Someone would take a Polaroid of. How funny,

That I ever thought I knew you.