Sitting, senior year, in my first period creative writing class,
The first time I’m not late all week.
Staring at the photo brings back fond memories,
A blurry picture taken at around three a.m. on a Sunday morning.
I lost my phone that night and didn’t find it till the morning after.
A large man in a black tank top, visor, and sunglasses.
The reflection of the flash in the lens appears to come alive
Almost as if to say, “Look at me, who am I taking the picture? You won’t know.”
The round body features play well with the rough, scraggly body hair
Almost like sugar and salt, combining to create a delicious blend.
Were you the perpetrator who purposefully possessed my phone without me knowing?
Who do you think you are—taking my friend’s visor, like Lenin stealing from peasants?
Are you perhaps Asa; the lovable, large, loud leader of the morning announcements we all know?
Or do you suffer from a crippling dissociative personality disorder?
Turning into a thief at night,
Or possibly a thief of the night?
Whoever you are, thank you.
Thank you for the fond memories you have spontaneously created on my phone.