Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Dad's Photography by Laurie Kolp

After lunch at the new Cajun place,
we pause beside an old rusty truck
(which is permanently parked
on the restaurant’s front porch)
so you can take my picture.
I show you which button to touch
how to extend your arms like a zombie—and snap.
I strike a pose beside the crusty Ford,
a perfect picture prop for my Facebook profile pic.
Two ladies pass by. One says she hopes I’m
up-to-date on my tetanus shot
(while the other one cautions me
not to ruin my white pants).
I scoot away from the truck’s corroded door
but you’re already snapping away
unaware that you’re snapping away,
twenty-five freeze-framed angles
of the same me we soon discover
while swiping frame to frame.
Somewhere in the middle I’m smiling
not for the picture but because
you’re taking my picture
after all those years
of disconnection.



Laurie Kolp’s poems have recently appeared in Stirring, Whale Road Review, concis, Up the Staircase, and more. Her poetry books include the full-length Upon the Blue Couch and the chapbook Hello, It's Your Mother. An avid runner and lover of nature, Laurie lives in Southeast Texas with her husband, three children, and two dogs.

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