Monday, August 27, 2007
[an attempt to write a prose poem entry in the style of my blogging hero, The Overnight Editor]
As we entered the cinema,
She discovered she’d forgotten her glasses,
And panicked that she wouldn’t be able to follow the story in a blur.
But most of the shots were close ups
So she got the drift
Just your typical English tale of
A man taking acid by mistake at a funeral and trying to jump off the roof,
While a dwarf did a sixty-nine with an old man in a coffin.
When the film was over, we went outside
Lightning was splitting open the night sky, so we ran, laughing
Through the rain
I felt so young and carefree
Like I was nineteen.
We went to a bar, she told me
Her troubles with men
When we walked home after the rain
She said the smell in the air
Reminded her of walking beside an
Italian beach, the waves crashing
Against the shore
I said the wet Baltimore street in the lamplight didn’t exactly remind me of an Italian Beach
But as she kept talking about it, suddenly I could see the waves, rushing
Across the street, over the cars
Lapping at our feet.