The garage door of my youth was
hung in such a way that its
leftward gap projected a slice of
light upon the interior wall,
creating an upside-down, full-color
image of the world outside.
I knew that there were logical
explanations for this: camera oscura,
pinhole lenses, refraction, reflection.
But this did not lessen the magic,
and I often wondered if I
was the only one who could see it.
I saved it for the long, dull
afternoons of summer, when a
movie of Mrs. Kroll walking her
upside-down labrador was the
only entertainment I could afford.
I the caveman,
watching a rock roll downhill,
considering the possibilities.
From the collection Fields of Satchmo
Photo by MJV