the old vhs tapes into a flash
drive
and watch
the hours and hours
of when
we were young,
newly weds
in our first house,
when the boy was born,
when he was one
then five.
i look at the ex-wife,
the unhappiness
on her face,
her smile
so quickly gone sour.
there's
the house
we lived in, the orange
carpet,
the hand me down
lamps
and couch,
the wedding album
under the coffee table,
the dog running
about.
were they good times?
sometimes
yes.
sometimes no.
and then the camera goes
off.
the tape runs out.
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