my mom was avid about taking pictures
she wanted to perserve our family history
most of her snap shots were of us
standing around at some gathering
looking directly into the sun
one of us would have our head cut off
when we got the photos out of the shoe box
we’d say: do you think that’s Mike

i use to have a darkroom
to develop black & white prints
thinking that scenes from Red River Gorge
were artistic, all those pictures
have joined the ones of the family
gathering dust in storage bins in the attic

now my grandchildren use their phones
to record their loony gramps
with his dreadlocked beard
that they then manipulate
into zany videos that they “share”
with their friends

most of those digital images
have also been forgotten
and are now gathering dust
in something called “the cloud” 
once in a blue moon
someone will try to retrieve them
to produce a movie for a funeral

when I go
just let me go
i don’t need mechanical reproductions
of me flashing around
at my celebration of life
that’s too much trouble
I hope you remember me 
as I was