In Defense of Poor Photography

see the smear of a smile smorn and
you will remember the evening lost,
look past the murk and past the grit and
the party springs back, so close, the drinks
at your fingertips and the old snap-click camera
at a friend’s eye, the smile they are committing to forever
is on your face, and also on his face, and her face,
and it’s all there! the whole night is right there,
the friend arriving early with a six-pack of Busch and
the friend with snow on her coat, twenty minutes late
(as usual),
and you were laughing at a joke that is gone, gone forever,
but the photo, all blurred, too dark, unsteady,
the photo is there to remind us

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