You know the picture.
A pair of friends.
A group shot maybe.
Usually by a famous landmark,
an immense landscape
or on the steps of museum eating lunch.
But when the shutter froze the moment,
like an insect in ice,
the boy smiling - centre frame –
became a stooge, the punch-line of the joke.
The two flexed fingers raised behind his head
present an ass, a jack-rabbit – a jack-ass.
A photograph of friendship
intended to be cherished, now tinted
with the yellow haze of mockery.
And in the back of the scene, in a tree shaded café
rests an empty coffee cup, a stained steel spoon.
Matthew Coombe
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-ears-2/
