they ruined the peace sign

fingers used to pulsate potential when topsy-turvy times were captured by flash bulbs and plastered on newspapers and life magazine

it died with ‘deuces’

two fingers and a pouty face

signaling their leaving

they already left

or, we didn’t ask them to stay

never explained our common language, shared the significance of our actions

left alone

to figure it out

they’re their own journalists chronically what happens when norms and celebrations, culture and deliberation, past-times and bed-side manners are disregarded

the them are us

previously placed weight on symbols, cultural mores, and rites was bid a goodnight when without wings and mating flight we fight with duck faces

saying good luck as we ‘peace out’

peace is within

without, we are locked screens

no memory of four digit codes and your face won’t be recognized by the past and i can only hope the future doesn’t look like you, like this

it does, it’s now

i’m getting old

reflective

one thing i do know, i don’t want the past

romance is lost

it starts with a conversation

photos held

relevance, reverence and importance placed on people and places who genuinely display who we are

what are we?

stuck

where two fingers hold the key

we can use it together

let me tell you how