My memories of the Fotomat
Are pristine and picture-perfect
The remnants of a seemingly simpler time
Poised parenthetically in parking lots
These bastions of drive-thru culture
Housed the hopes of hundreds
That their modest memories would be maintained
And like the photographs they dispensed
They have faded into the landscape
Worn down by weather and time
Withering wistfully into the past
In these days of plentiful photography
I sorely miss the time of these icons
Where the rarity of picture taking
Met with the now rarity of film
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