This is no mere metallic box, 

This is no simple source of revenue,

This is no ordinary one-time-thing.

 

Another out. You in.

 

Curtains open and close,

open and close. Step in,

step out. Each raucous 

smile and laugh and chuckle

 

is like clockwork within this 

insignificant yet indelible structure.

 

Time stops. Polaroids attempt to manacle 

every emotion, glance, movement. Yet nothing

will capture the indentation this booth has had.

Memories ‘made’…

 

But at what cost? 

 

Coins of the heart, 

Coins of time,

Coins never to be gained back.

 

You’re out. Another in. 

 

Now a flimsy, fragile slip of indelible ink will

be pinned on your wall, screaming at you for what you 

could have done so that you can reminisce on perfection

and not face the reality that this photo booth was never yours, despite your eternal payment, despite your non-refundable time. 

 

Frozen time in your frozen palms, yet this sensation still engulfs you: disassociation, desperation to go back and feed off the finite euphoria. But the curtains are now closed and the moment you once obsessed over plummets you into ivy-like

 

saudade.

 

Each raucous smile and laugh and chuckle

is the clockwork of this insignificant yet

indelible structure. Remind yourself…

 

This is a mere metallic box, 

This is a simple source of revenue,

This is a painful one-time-thing.

 

Photo booth.