The photo of me that night.
Does it resemble me?
When was it taken?
Do I set my mouth like that,
And why is my palm turned up,
Wrist flexed, as if holding an
Invisible platter of fruit?
Who are these people passing by—
A blurred, blond woman running,
A man with a white dog?
Where do they live?
Will I see them?
Did they hear the robotic snap
Or see the flash
As I did— scuttling crustacean,
lingering chandelier of pale spots?
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