Photographic Memory

The lensflare carefully applied
by Paintshop Pro
(not just an Amateur, like you)
to make the day stand out instead.
On your website,
front page,
where all the traffic goes.
I was forgotten
in the artificial glow;
not quite so lovely.
I detract from perfect sunsets.

I wore a lot of blue those days.

Now and then
the old shirts come out
like relatives you can't shake off;
I walk them around the house
and throw them out 'til next time--
they always come home
much larger than before.
Stretched thin where shared.
Stained with yellow,
all my favorites,
when you painted rooms
something bright and beautiful.
Which blue was not.

You said it was no accident,
and I know better than that--
Drips of paint which still smell
of your clumsiness.

You would have painted
me as well,
your airbrush held in shaking hands,
to match the stacks of magazines
(we both pretended I was blind)
and added lensflares
to my eyes. A softer curve,
and finer thighs.
Another sunset,
made of skin.
Another photo-life
wiped clean.

When you look back
through all your pictures

Do you still remember me?

AKL 2005