POEM - C-c-c-copy Face, C-c-copy Face (Mum mum mum mah C-c-c-copy Face)

It is something I have always loved

Better than a Polaroid

The sharp black and white snapshot

With edges dark as deepest space

Sinking into an impenetrable abyss

Occasional need would find me idle

A tag along with my father

As he stopped by work

Just for a few moments on a Saturday

He introduced me to the process

Probably so he could get a few things done

After I had exhausted my interest

In the IBM Selectric

            With it’s fascinating chrome orb

                        Covered in a plethora of symbols

I had spent a good while

Trying to get every character

To hit at least once

But now I was bored again

            Asking what was next

                        Or better yet, could we get ice cream

The answer came by way of distraction

“Here son, let’s look at this

            It is called a copy machine.”

One push of the button and the gears churned

A flash of heated light

            And then the paper emerged

                        Both our hands etched perfectly

Surrounded by a warm carbon sea

Naturally my face went on the glass

As soon as no one was looking

I made the mistake only once

            Of keeping my eyes open

Once I recovered from brief blindness

I made sure they were shut

Turned out page after page

Of grotesque caricatures

Goofy squished faces

Captured for later

Evidence of a productive outing

When my mother would ask later

Just what had we done all day

I still take the opportunity when I can

“Accidentally” slip my hand into a copy

Smash my face on the glass

Contort my features

Lift the original in different ways

Twist the paper as the light goes by

Experiment with the world that is seen

By an electronic eye

Millimeters at a time