The
photographs are old,
some
faded, spent flowers,
forgotten,
left in a
in
a closet smelling of mothballs
and
cedar, sisters in form-fitting
dresses,
bobbed hair, smiling
at
the photographer. I know them
but
I know them thirty years later
as
they were careening to old age
but
smiling, always smiling
at
the photographer. They knew me,
thirty
year later, and we all smiled
at
the photographer.
Photograph: WPA Artists, 1930s, Michigan
Department of Natural Resources.
