The Wrong Picture. (New Poem).

I did not know that pain
Could come back with such intensity,
Could spike deep a second time.

The girl in this photograph,
So like an old girlfriend,
An acquaintance from the 1990`s,
But no, not her, not her.

The street is in the wrong country,
The sky too pale a blue,
Too Wind flower blue,
Too Nordic, too washed out.

I drop the magazine in the bin,
There go my thoughts of yesterday,
Just so much retro garbage.

Must I always fall in love
With lookalikes of long lost friends?
Exist in a sepia world
Of fading reproductions?

No, but I am thinking of a different street,
Of poplars bending in the wind,
Kinder at play, their parents dozing
On verandas dark with vines.
Germany 1991,
The heat almost Mediterranean.

The girl in this magazine photograph
Would pass me by without a glance
If we met on a crowded side walk.
But her pale blue eyes, her mousy hair,
The tilt of her smile towards the light,
Are dangerously familiar.

I retrieve the magazine from the bin -
Then discard it once again.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
February 25th. - March 18th. 2017.
March 19th. 2018.
Retrieved from disorderly scraps of a poem jotted down last year, then completely rewritten.