S. N. A. P.
Written By: Ash Catcher
I went thrifting, and to a few cafes.
By myself, lately I had a bunch of treat-you self days.
I Stepped up to the counter to place my order.
Got overwhelmed with the menu, that is just my anxiety disorder.
Managed to stutter to the pretty cashier:
“I’ll have an Americano please.” It was good but not like my old spot in Revere.
The small one looked really big, but that is America for you.
Kinda wish I didn’t give my cousin my holographic ancient MEW.
Ash, dial back to thrifting, I found myself making a bee line to a pile of pictures.
All of the other times, and peoples families, willing to bet my childhood allowance they all knew their scriptures.
All the backs date back to the 60s techno color, pastel substitutional urbs.
All the men, mad looking as hell- like they could all be my grandpa- or on the cover of Forbes.
One I found I called her Gertie, she looked like some psychedelic plant lady- and I saw myself in her indeed.
If we make it past 2050, you best bet I want to be just like that saint, total galactic babe, and star-seed.
Pictures of people used to scare me as a kid.
I didn’t understand at first of all the places that have been.
Time traveling is possible and it can all be contained in a thrifted box.
Of photos of dead people- they probably knew where to get the best bagels and lox.
I have to say some days I am jealous, but I would never wear those skirts.
I would be rocking killer pant suits- I would be that radical bitch in the 60’s in shorts.
All it takes is a snap, something from nothing that beautiful overused line.
A blip in the Matrix, a single moment in your timeline.
Then you start to fuck with the settings, and thats when reality is done.
The perspective and exposure is all off- way too much sun!
S.ingle lens, so I can still sprawl out in the middle of my bed. Cat cornered me, judging me silently like I am up for a performance review.
N.oise, there is way too much collective humming for me to even hear you.
A.perture, it can be a little hard to crack that cancer crabby shell. Not a lot of light or people come in.
P. Oint and Shoot, hyper focusing, and going M. I. A in the middle of the day. Love and hate when people touch my skin.
I am not the best at being present.
Half the time I am not here- borderline fluorescent.
Eyes like lenses, taking way too much in.
Socializing is great, but I like being alone a little more now and recharging.