GROCERY STORE POLAROID

by Jenna Lam

10:34pm  

saturday october night,  
we sit under the darkened skies brightened by  
fluorescent yellow lampposts  
like round marigolds  

your eyes gazed on me—  
a look I’ll never forget  
the smell of citrus lingers  
i feel safe and appreciated.  

new batteries breathe my camera back to life  
i want to remember this moment  
you smile — with that old smile you used to have 
(my memory has faded me now)  
eyes crinkling with happiness  
your heart was fulfilled  
and so was mine.  

two polaroids  
one for each of us  
to keep  

there is something romantic in the way  
you kept your polaroid in your wallet  
as if I was always tethered to you  

the snow hurries  
all passions disappear  
like a fire dissipated by a single teardrop  

the difficult part arrives  
i still remember how  
there we both sat,  
inches away yet miles apart  
how could it all end so fast?  

i cannot remember what your old smile looks like 
the polaroid is my reminder  
of how blissful we used to be  
when our presences were blessings to each other,
not burdens  

i look at that polaroid  
and wish to travel back but  
even a map cannot return you  
to a place that no longer exists. 

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Jenna Lam is a Canadian student who appreciates poetry, photography and fashion. She sees these forms of art as a way to express how she feels and thinks about her life experiences. In her free time, you may find her shopping, scrapbooking, reading, watching television, or making scrumptious lattes.