I remember...

 I remember cheaply bound editions of the classics, how their spines would break half way through the first reading, the pages detaching softy in my hands. 

Then, the return to the classroom through clouds of tobacco smoke; fumes of buses.  

The words resounded in my head beneath clouds scattered by the wind.  

***

It struck me I could repurpose a particular poetic rhetoric, simply putting images from my own experience in place of the original. It is a way of gaining access to these images, which ought to be accessible to me but are not without a particular rhetoric that makes them poetically intelligible.