Sitting on the chair
in the photographer’s studio
did you ever pause to wonder
that day, the snow falling
outside the papered-over windows
keeping the light wholly
within his control,
how many lonely men
might keep your picture, you
their imagined once lover
who left, who died, who
grew apart over time,
on their mantle, coffee
table, nightstand, dresser.
Did you even know you
would be framed countless times
in several sizes, some
wood, some metal, but all
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