The Shades Are All Drawn
I know what you’re thinking
That even in those dawning days of cinema,
My eyes cast for posterity.
Well,
That wasn’t the case.
I figured, if celluloid was man-made,
It would dissolve,
As readily as anything.
So, I filmed for the payout,
For carnival tours in need of new attractions.
It was a living
While it lasted,
Until the bigwigs muscled in,
Consolidating all the profits for themselves.
I didn’t stick around long after.
Could’ve struck it rich, maybe,
Married a starlet,
But, what difference would it have made?
Now,
I won’t deny there weren’t nights dancing through moonlit bungalows
Or mornings laid out on the beach with an empty bottle
And hazy memories of Gilda or Laura or . . .
See, parties end. That’s how they run.
And eventually I ran out of odds jobs
And started knocking over liquor shops and other small concerns.
It lent its own air of excitement,
I won’t deny it,
But,
I never thought myself better than anyone else;
We’re all no better than warped filmstrips
And a century from now most of us,
Like the majority of those cheapies we shot for the Nickelodeons,
Will be forgotten.
So, to answer your question
Why I’m loitering
Beneath this decrepit marquee,
Well, perhaps, part of me does
Pine for parades gone by.