Out of Focus

The photo was at the bottom of the box.

Me at nineteen, slightly out of focus,

at a party I don't remember attending.

I picked it up. Put it down.

Picked it up again and looked at it

longer than I meant to.

The person in it is turned

toward something outside the frame —

loose in the shoulders,

a little certain.

I left it on the counter

and ate dinner next to it

without looking at it directly.

That was three days ago.

One corner has curled a little more.

The box is still open on the floor.

I don't know what I spent

the last decade doing, exactly,

but it's the opposite of that face.