I don’t know why I love you.
I never even saw your face
(especially your mouth)
There was no conversation.
I didn’t hear your laugh or your cry.
I didn’t hear you say goodbye.

I don’t know why I love you.
Your style is not one
I’d pick for myself.
Your colors confused me.
You didn’t turn around.
There was no blood and no sound.

I don’t know why I love you.
But I’m still thinking about
The way the mirror intersected you into
Horizontal slivers as if
You were a human puzzle
Never to be put back together again.


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You folded the postcard
And what used to be a building where people lived
Became a bent diagonal body
in a postmodern architectural graveyard.

You folded the postcard
And the window who wished it was a door
Became several slivers of intersecting right angles
Without a clear entrance or exit.

You folded the postcard
And made a symmetry out of space
an origami out of our memories
a Rorschach out of reality.

You folded the postcard
Twisted space and time
Turned us into fractured selves
No one would want to buy a memento of.

Maybe it’s better this way.

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You belong in a posh hotel with fresh flowers in the lobby
or a high rise office overlooking other skyscrapers
overlooking people overlooking
the gritty ground scurrying about
as if each minute mattered.

You belong in a fancy condo elevator
that never gets stuck.
Or behind a well dressed receptionist with a fancy pen.
You belong at the very top.
Still, exceptionally lonely.

You belong in the pages of a glossy magazine
filled with flashy ads for expensive perfume.
A magazine about magazines that are magazines
for the very rich who don’t want to read any articles
on climate change.

You do not belong in an art gallery
or the wall of someone who actually cares about art
Someone who knows that real photography
isn’t just something good
but something that captures the human spirit
and connects us more.

You belong in the trash bin.

But, I’ll still keep you just for now.

No promises for the future.

You better be careful. I’ll throw that magazine out.

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Laughter is both an opposite and an equal
to falling
For both moments of humanity
You forget about your physical Pain
Poverty
Genocide
Discrimination
and are simply complex molecules moving
Dancing frantically
Trying like mad to keep you alive.


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This is the way I see You.
Not as a human.
Not as a physical entity.
But as a fully realized moment.


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