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.
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