pictures are difficult
no one knows me better than you
yet i can’t help but trace the edges
crisp with yesterdays oh how they feel like yesterday
i miss
whispering in theater seats with buttered popcorn to which you question
these pixels still of a moment now distant
why is it that i ask of an alternate where we met earlier on
perhaps i am just greedy of our time
or am jealous of those who have gotten more ticks of your clock
and have locked them in a time i do not know
but we run down streets at dusk screaming
and you make a breakfast ice cream mugs
and i’ll take stills of stills we’ll keep
when nothing matters much