The phone

I don’t think it’s possible to forget a face

But you could be surprised by one

A long passed relative staring back at you

As you mindlessly flip through your digital albums

Expecting memories of trips past or saved recipes but

Seeing instead your ancestors looking on

Remembering how you taught them things

Like what the Internet was

And how you pretended to love meat when they cooked you

Cheeseburgers

How she painted and sculpted every day

But only portraits of long dead authoresses

Or cats with human faces

While he peddled rigged arcade games in giant warehouses

And gave you porcelain dolls and monkeys that played piano on strings

All of this comes back

With a swipe on a screen

As you looked for what to make for dinner

3 thoughts on “The phone

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