Selfies Now and Then

NaPoWriMo April 14: “Today, we challenge you to write a poem that bridges the seeming divide between poetry and technological advances.”

I like how Becca Klaver’s “Manifesto of the Lyric Selfie” draws inspiration from the contemporary drive to document everything in digital photographs. Today’s draft is my perception of that modern element ailment.

Selfies Now and Then, by Elizabeth Boquet

Used to be, it was neighborly to share your vacation photos
over drinks upon return. Nobody really cared about the monuments.
It was a moment to reunite, get back to everyday life.

Yesterday, as I was rolling out the trash, my neighbor wheelied
her bin over to mine with a grin, “I’m baaa-aaack! You’ve got
to see these shots…” And there she was. Everywhere,

with lipsticked lips I never knew she had. Her face at sunset. Her face
at sunrise. At sunset. At sunrise. Lipstick. Hair. A sunset. A sunrise.
Lipstick. Hair. I looked, and I searched for something neighborly to say.

With the only changes being the states of her hair, I pieced together
a meteorological map of her vacation for some apolitical weather chat.
“Looks like you got off to a sunny start.”

“Is that you sailing, in all that wind?” “A sunset. You know what they say,
‘Red at night, sailor’s delight…’” “A sunrise. Uh-oh. Red in morning,
sailor take warning…” A sunset. A sunrise. Lipstick. Hair.

We weren’t getting anywhere when escape appeared, with her arm
elongating. She leaned in, “Wanna take a selfie with me?” and I,
in my bathrobe, leaned right in and said, “I thought you’d never ask.”