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6/19/11

Freeze Frame

I have a photographic memory. Not in the conventional sense in that I remember everything I see, but rather that I remember in snapshots, a frame of memory. I wonder if other people see films rather than slide shows.

Friday as I drove home, a young man was running. My memory camera clicked a shot just as one of his muscled legs pushed him up off the pavement onto the sidewalk. In that single movement/moment, my poet's eye saw springboks and panthers and all things well oiled. Graceful and intended and purposeful. So easy.

I was behind a pickup truck in California at a stop sign when the man swung his arm out the window to place his hand on the roof. A typical man-driving-a-pick-up-truck move.
In that one frame - I saw the sun glinting off his wristwatch, the graceful arc of his forearm, the tan of his skin, and I about died from the sheer sexiness of it. (shut-up. we have established my weirdness many times in this blog, okay?)

Another snapshot from Florida - an older African American man in a blue [yet another] pickup, his arm hanging down the outside of the door. His wedding ring glowing like a miniature halo on his dark skin. The movie theater behind him.

Driving through Georgia on some unremembered back road - a woman sitting on her trailer porch amid a whole lot of stuff. No other trailers or houses nearby. Just trailer, porch, woman, "stuff".
I waved. She waved back.
For some reason, this one makes me sad.

A feather in the grass on St. Simons Island. The giant orange platter of a full moon rising over the Rogue River in Oregon (the smell of blackberries will recall this shot). Flying fish on the way to Hawaii. Click. Click. Click.

Here's something Allison saw after dinner last Sunday night (Spotted Dog - best burger I've had in a long time!):

1 comment:

  1. Thanks for sharing those images with us. I could visualize them as I read.

    ReplyDelete