telephoto

i remember when little details of you filled my frame.
seeing you now makes me wish we could still be the same
as when you were my subject, my close-up, my focus,
before the distance, the time, and the pain finally broke us.

i’ve been eyeing your face through a telephoto lens
and hearing stories about you from all our old friends.
you’re rebuilding your life beyond my narrow view,
but i crop it close to retain that old image of you.
cropping it close lets me keep my old vision of you.

for so long i’ve focused on you selectively.
all else is background, it’s fuzzy, it’s blurry.
my instincts shut out all elements that surround you,
and i shudder at thoughts of developing without you.
as i press on with my hopes of what we’ll amount to

advancing and rolling with this negative game,
anticipating the moment when you’ll reenter my frame,
i’ve created false proof, sheathed my composed lies,
perpetuated high key days of happier times,
and followed each one of your misleading lines

a little more to the left. there, that’s about right.
i’m finally stepping back to see you clearly tonight.
everything is low key, and there’s not enough light.
i’ve released the bright colors, it’s all black and white.
i’m giving up trying to pull it in tight.

i’ll give up trying to pull you in tight.

©hack 2002