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February 13, 2014

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So as to capture the taste of everyday life

my dad would turn on the video camera,

point it at us, and let it run. If we knew

he was filming us, we only wanted to see

our own faces on the screen, the digital

moving image more impressive than what

we saw with our own eyes. A mirror

with a memory.

What curious, greedy things we were.

And now, old enough for our own video cameras,

if we wanted, we still watch our lives play back to us,

still laugh as my brother takes his tumble

into the inflatable pool. We watch

again, and again, as someone always touches

the irresistible flickering tip

of a birthday candle.