A Beautiful and Unique Snowflake

Weathered copies of an art magazine
From ninety-nine and onward through aught five
Chronicle my generation’s need to be seen
Before we really believe we’re alive.

Turn of the century, end of an age
Alias caught by the table of contents
Each artwork reclines alone on the page
We let the art speak the author’s torments.

Fast forward just a handful of years,
Pages printed in two thousand and four.
Italic moniker below each script
Our ‘identities’ assert a bit more.

One more year passed, aught-five was printed
on each facing page, the inventor’s name
large face, bold print, a cry for attention,
we’re desperate for our moments of fame.