i know of me firsthand
and have heard it from so many
but to find yourself again
is an unforgettable journey
no particular initiation
typically a random find
cleaning out the closet unearths
a photo album labeled life
some shame, pounds of blame
hidden tears and miles of pain
but as the glossy polaroid
reflects a regret
the picture below it
floods the depressing abyss
with the sunbeams and grass of
a fridge-worthy childhood drawing
this teeter-tottering continues
until the kodachrome time machine
makes its last stop
at a reflection of me in April
different shirt, same peppered hair
variation of me today
captured in another somewhere
fresh, but someday archived
from my database of thoughts
to this celluloid museum dedicated
to preservation of days lost
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