Same Week, Different Year

I was going to close the app.

My thumb was already on it when

the image loaded—table, gap

of a water glass, and then

the sleeve. Just the cuff, just caught

at the frame's edge. Not a face.

The photo was of food. I thought

that would be easier. The place

looks like what it is: a table,

a candle in a glass, the plate

I don't remember ordering. The label

the app puts on it: one year. Late

October. The week I'm in now.

I closed the screen. Looked at the wall.

The sleeve at the edge. The how

of a year: a series of small

routes I take now instead of that block,

not a rule, just how the feet

learned to go. The clock

on the microwave. The street.

The cuff. The water glass, half-full,

right at the edge of the shot.

The year behind me. The pull

of a photo I almost forgot.