Photo Snap Ears
CLARITY: TRANSITION ELEMENTS | Moment One Hundred Sixty-Eight
Bus number nineteen,
with Percy Looker as our driver,
turned right onto County Road I
at the big cemetery
one wintry evening.
I took a mental photo
by “clicking” my ears.
It was a dirty snowball
on the corner
where the road met the bank
a basketball in size—a bit squashed,
to its left, a small clump
golf-ball in size, but dirty.
I did it again the next morning
“click”— in the old three story section
of our elementary school.
A U-shaped bracket
held the bathroom stall frame together,
screwed into the white-painted
brick wall.
I was in swimming class in Chicago
1992—Freshman year.
Our swim coach showed
how to clench our jaws
to release water from our ears.
“You don’t just click your ears?” I asked.
