You sent me a photo from 2018
You sent me a photo from 2018,
to my inbox in 1998.
It flashed off your iphone and shined,
then halted and crawled through my phone line.
HOTMAIL laid down pixels like a snail,
while our poodle wagging his tail.
In the million dots I search for your face,
that turned back to me before yesterday.
But I only see on my screen pixels,
blurred by on your face wrinkles.
