Argus

On hot days I grow a little too complacentbeing clever:                  like making loveand watching yourself making lovein your mind's dirty, happy eye                          —that double exposurewhen balance exceeds limits setand you forget to stay inside yourself,experience and meta-experiencenot properly meshing     —do they ever?

These days, camera phones mean noaccidental double-exposure, no two-in-oneas spooled film nears its end but won't let goof sprocket teeth, or thumb forgets to wind a knoband separate moments join in timeghosting together what never was:              I'm thinking of the ancient 1940sArgus 36 millimeter my father gave me                        back before a boyhood trip.             A black box as heavy as a brick—never anything new in our flea market house—            but oh,                          what pictures that camera took!A paperweight now, a roll of film            still in it             —pictures of what                         I could not tell you—though each sharp snap of its single-reflex lensmade sure that boy knew this world dependson light and dark working together.