Poetry from Oona Haskovec

time travelers 

you took our picture from a car window. 

i know 

because i saw the door frame on the edge of the photograph.

neither of us saw you take it, but i know it exists

because someone in the future is admiring 

the yellowing picture paper

that smells of antique stores and soap.

why had we stopped to stand in the middle of the highway?

not sure

who are you? 

i wont bother guessing because you care either way.

you stopped time in march.

the MAR on the side told me so.

what year? anyone's guess.

all i know is that she is looking at me and i am looking at the 

blue or the grey or the beige.