The mere mention of an object, hint of an idea, suggestion of a concept
and my mind has plastered it all over my thinking space:
magazine cut-outs, posters, video stills,
reels of film. Solid as the wall in front of me,
just behind my eyes. It’s odd that it’s invisible to you.
Elephants come charging in from The Jungle Book,
pink cousins visiting from Dumbo,
onyx bead eyes from a National Geographic photo I once saw
and a few others dancing around up there, with the word ELEPHANT
in grey, wrinkled lettering floating above their heads.
No one ever talks about how they think,
I didn’t realise this associative image gallery
wasn’t the norm.