Since we broke up
The photo booth
In the shop
Down your road
Hates me.
The pictures
That it takes of me
Come out
Ghostly.
In them I am grossly
Anaemic,
Off-centre,
Under saturated,
Unhygienic,
Green eyed,
Lopsided
And unusually pasty.
Since we broke up
The photo booth
In the shop
Down your road
Is not my friend
My hair no longer looks
Like its been washed
With Pantene
And no matter
what I spend
It refuses to capture
My smile
again.
Instead
it shoots trouble
Reveals my sore spots
hard knots
Bitten with stubble
Where there once were wrinkles
Well,
Now there are double
And the seat lacks old comfort
As if it were created
For a couple
And
As I stand
Watching,
Waiting
For another picture
That it’s taken
The guttural jeers
Of the machine
Develop in my ears
Confirming my fears
That the whole world's
Turning
Against me lately.
And since we broke up
The photo booth
In the shop
Down your road
Seems to
Hate me.
Comments
Yazmin | February 23, 2009 - 18:25
This is very good, sweet and a tiny bit funny.
A great reading sir :)
threeleafshamrock | February 23, 2009 - 19:41
Like this one; says a lot and captures the sentiment well! Thanks!
Chris
Amazon | February 24, 2009 - 12:07
I do not think that I have ever taken a brilliant photo in a photo booth. My face always seems to come out wrong. My eyes look too fixed or my expression is much too serious.
I liked the structure of your poem. You used one or a few words in each line. No words were wasted.
Your experience in the photo booth was very immediate. You kept my interest going right up to your last word, "me".
Well done.
Doeslittle | February 24, 2009 - 16:40
Cleverly done, excellent idea. I liked it very much.
jennifer | February 27, 2009 - 14:57
It's another poem! Why is it in the 'story' category?!
It's a really good poem!
J x
gristo | March 8, 2009 - 11:56
You're right Jennifer, it should be in the poem section and I've changed it. :)