| Jonathan Berger's Poetry: Poem of the Day |
| BAD PICTURE The picture of you I keep up on the wall beside my bed above my forehead was taken when you were angry because you hadn't worked out in three days since the curse. You're all pimply and pale and, they say the camera adds ten pounds? You must have been wearing a lumpy camera sweat-suit that day. You'd just chipped your tooth and your dentist's appointment was day's away but that didn't stop your from taking that home-made anesthetic my uncle brews and your hair was all a horrible mess. You didn't want me to take the picture, I remember, and you chased me around the place, trying to get the camera back. But you were so weak, so tired, so coughy sick exhausted I easily out-distanced you. It is, without doubt, the worst shot of you that any has ever taken, and no matter how I may categorize or demonize you since what has happened, I doubt I'll ever move it from the wall beside my bed above my forehead. It just makes it easier, you know? |