3/9/11

Exposed Film
By Rochelle Germond


This story is not a pile of photographs,
but a single snapshot
of you at that table lined with red plastic cups,
your navy blazer dotted with sooty ovals.
You found it among the acid wash denim
and mesh tanks
in the thrift store on Lime Street.

I was a fan of oddities,
like your jacket, the square of fabric tucked in its pocket,
and the parentheses that punctuated your smile.
You said you were well-versed in the rules of this game,
but you wanted more than one night to figure me out.
So we danced in that abandoned living room
on a sheen of beer, spilled hours earlier,
to an audience of half-filled cans, and Jon,
passed out on the cream and dirt couch.

Slow motion would have moved too fast that night,
and as the sun dusted the sky with her blush
the photograph began to fade in the shuttering light.


- - -
Rochelle is a student at the University of South Florida in Tampa, where she is studying Creative Writing and Education. Her vices are massive amounts of coffee, somewhat obscure Indie-Rock bands, and yoga. She enjoys sunsets and the beach, but not long walks.