silently, initially,

the black bodies sit,
doubled vertically,
smeared a bit below,
then commence to glide
left and right,
an eerie realization of
countless carny-cons:
shooting galleries

and then,
who knew,
quacks so nearly indistinguishable
from barking

cracking the barely-there
color-shift of another
pre-dawn

synaestheisa

it's good not to have a camera

altered still
from
female perversions
susan streitfeld
1997
from a non-fiction book by
louise j kaplan
amy madigan+tilda swinton
depicted
(tilda's character much like
the one for which she won the oscar)