The pictures pop up
like popcorn on the screen
a slide show of passing images
of things I’ve never seen
each grander than the last,
a regular parade of pleasure
I get to watch from the comfort
Of my computer,
Aching over each for hours seated,
For the need to be there
And see it all for myself,
Shedding the pain of isolation
And the leaves of a calendar
That shed as fast
As each photograph fades
Life always passes too fast
And I hobble too slowly
To ever keep up,
these pictures
a memory of things
I’ve never actually seen.
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