Inspired by Debì terar Màs Fotos by Bad Bunny.

My camera should have lasted me till September,

It lasted me till 17 months ago,

A whole year and a week,

I took 18 pictures with it, 

deleted approximately three thousand and fifty (3051+18)

give and take some loose change.

Crying through her last pack of tissues

and her first newports in months,

I looked for a drag without offending

a personal grieving

at an impersonal nothing, I mirrored the sentiment,

politely.

I eventually just lit my own.

Her camera still works and we used it today.

The news today told of another drunk driver,

I hoped it was me because

he wasn’t killed

luckily.

It would be a great thing, a flawless end to my recent antic,

to break several limits in the loaner lemon

given to me by

her this older man

who also loaned me this camera –

he died last year, 13 months ago.

My finger, still swollen, now twitches

very slovenly, very loudly.

It is loud, not loud enough for me to groan,

Loud enough for me to look around and wonder -

“Què pasa, coño” – it’s my most impressive stolen Spanish.

My camera broke a while ago but I still remember the last 17 months,

though

it would’ve been nicer

if i

had

tak

en

If I had taken more photos.