I am the photo that lives and dies on a phone.

But I come from a long line of illustrious ancestors.

My great, great grand uncle is on permanent display

At the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center.
 

He was conceived one night on 8”x10” silver gelatin negative

As the moon was rising outside Hernandez, NM.

Born in a dark room at the hands of Ansel Adams,

One of a limited edition of brothers and sisters around the world,

He lives in a temperature- and humidity-controlled environment.

No one touches him without white gloves and utmost care.

Hundreds of thousands of aunts and uncles died young

Unlamented, underexposed, overexposed, out of focus

Or stillborn at the hands of rank amateurs.

Some even forgot to take the lens cap off.

Dismissed with a shrug and a sheepish laugh,

What was I even thinking?

From print straight into the dustbin

Even before exiting the One-Hour Photo store.

My parents and grandparents were lovingly treasured

Preserved in family albums or mounted on slides

To be proudly displayed before guests after dinner.

Some aunts and uncles were painstakingly restored

After scratches, dust, careless handling

Or damage by the natural elements.

I am the photo that lives and dies on a phone.

I travel around the wide world

Farther than any of my ancestors

Shared from phone to phone on social media

To the accompaniment of 👍, 💗 or 😲

But I am the photo that lives and dies on a phone,

Never printed, never projected

Never felt a tender human touch.