You sent me a photo from 2018

You sent me a photo from 2018,

to my inbox in 1998.

It flashed off your iphone and shined,

then halted and crawled through my phone line.

HOTMAIL laid down pixels like a snail,

while our poodle wagging his tail.  

In the million dots I search for your face,

that turned back to me before yesterday. 

But I only see on my screen pixels,

blurred by on your face wrinkles.