It was the best kind of surprise;
I smiled, unbidden, thinking:
Yes, this is someone I want to know.
I will never know you.
You will only remember me.
We meet today across photons,
Tricks of algorithm,
A best guess of time
Sprinkled across the bones
That show.
My scars will deepen
But they will also soften
As laughter arcs
From point to point
And lurking sparks burst forth.
In this new face I see my dearest blood
Summoned up in some
Beloved nest of twinkles,
And I finally make sense of my
Genetic destiny,
Seeing it laid out by a game;
A shame I’ll have to wait so long
To see your face again.
A friend of mine showed off a four-by-four square of images on Facebook today. It was him, transmuted by the alchemy of something called “FaceApp” from himself into an ageing version of himself, a youthful version of himself, and a female version of himself. He is three days younger than me. I gave it a go, somewhat braced, and was amazed at what happened. (Of course, what also happened was a poem…)
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