Polaroid by Ciara Burke
A ‘hello’ some ‘how do you dos’ and perhaps a Polaroid of his soul folded by the corners framed with sticky fingerprints. That’s what he lets them see as he folds up his life, taps it on the head, and sends it off to another bedroom wall, tattered and frayed. So fold me up Carlos tap me on the head tell me what a good boy I’ve been and maybe stick a Polaroid of you eyes into my jacket pocket; right above my heart.