Day Sixty-six

Today's words:

Picture

T-shirt

Croissant

Value

Guitar

Accident

I came across an old picture

Of you from Cannes.

You were wearing a t-shirt

That said "I ❤️ NY." You were holding a croissant.

You were on La Croisette. I remember trying to put a value on a guitar

You were trying to sell. By what accident

Of fate did we meet? My life now feels like an accident,

A mistake, or a bad dream. I picture

Our old life together, before you sold your guitar

And ended that part of your life. Sometimes I still sleep in your t-shirt.

It's of no value

To anyone but me. I'll have a croissant

(Or what passes for one here) and think of another croissant

We shared on the morning of the accident

That obliterated the value

Of my life. Here you are in another picture,

In Paris this time, in a different t-shirt,

Your guitar

Slung across your chest. The guitar

Was red. I finish the croissant

And take off the t-shirt.

It can't be an accident

That I came across that picture

Today. There has to be a value

To this experience, even if it only makes me value

More what I had before you sold the red guitar.

I think again of that picture

Of you holding a croissant

On La Croisette. After the accident,

You weren't dead - you were perfect, your t-shirt

Wasn't even torn, but you were through with me. That's not the t-shirt

I kept. I didn't know enough to value

What I had before the accident,

And if I could go back I would. I'd get back that guitar

And even the croissant

In the picture.

Who knew that a t-shirt and a guitar

Could be of such value? Or that a simple croissant

Photographed by accident could mean so much in a picture?