Polaroid

My black and whites,
covered with the chemical smell of fixer,
small images developed onto small paper,
reflecting some most important moments of my life.

Eighth grade friends,
filmed in school hallways,
or in front of their houses
in pairs, groups, or singly.
High School friends
in the same configuration,
so dear to me, yet lost in time
except on photographic paper.

My younger brother as an infant,
proof he was once so tiny.
Jim Morrison on stage,
his image no bigger than my thumbnail,
yet my proof that he ever existed.

My black and whites,
useless to others,
but treasured by me.