At 14, I practiced
being sullen
in a photo booth
under West 33rd Street,
before catching the tube
to Hoboken.
You'd step in,
sit down, pull the curtain,
adjust the pedestal stool,
comb your hair,
center your face
at the →eye level← arrows,
and put your quarters in.
Four photos in a strip
ready in five minutes—
one face, four fledgling looks:
fear, pique, ignorance, smirk.
From The Eyes Have It, (Turning Point, 2018).
Used here with the author's permission.
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