Post Life

Life,
is bigger when it's not in constant motion
like the momentary pauses whenever the
guy with the remote takes the notion
as if some feminine hand reaches out
from beyond the interplanetary ocean.
You stop,
to notice that there were flowers back there
to remember her name, the cell numbers
the reason that you were going somewhere
a touch of his hand, the shuffle of her feet
Do I hope? Shall you finish? Do we dare?
Photograph,
like a selfie except that everyone you ever knew
is in on it, clustered together, forever or at least
long enough that stillness will make it feel new
I recall we stood apart yet close enough to feel
the pull on the heartstrings, unscientifically true.
Life,
is slower when the words push it along the page
like the scribble scrabble of this my digital pen
the smoothness of the LCDness of age
as if with one sentence I can sum up it all
like the Shakespearean actor upon the
darkened stage.