Snapshot isn’t even a term anymore
we don’t even take photographs
everything is generic, staged ‘shot’
truth be told we don’t even use cameras

But at the bottom of an ancient shoebox
there is a snapshot of you, sitting on
the front step of my apartment building
circa nineteen-seventy-whatever

The picture is grainy, in look and feel
taken with my mom’s Kodak Instamatic
printed with a fancy, matte finish
photo itself has a rough texture to it

There is more background than you in
the picture; steps, shrubs on either side
the building itself – all prominent, but
you are centered, as was your way

Yours a classic look of a then typical
nineteen-year-old college student –
jeans, blue denim shirt, unbuttoned
just so, gold-rim, aviator sunglasses

Even at distance your smile is palpable
brown hair cascades off your shoulders
body language, relaxed, unconcerned
elbows on knees, arms hanging loose

At the bottom of an ancient shoebox
there is a curled, coarse snapshot of you
I have taken it out a few times
scanned it, trying to enhance you

you are too small, not detailed enough
so the picture stays at bottom of that box
where such things should reside
it is a snapshot of you, finely detailed

Just not on film.

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2022
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd