Monday, 2 June 2008

2. On Super 8

An angel boy
on the cusp of devilry
blowing dandelion
heads to the breeze.

He bows gracefully
leprechaun eyes
guarded to the world;
smile secreted.

The camera whirs
and clicks, soft focus
strong colours
full disclosure.

Unwritten futures
frozen forever
on fading film;

a director
lowers the lens
shouts “Cut!
That’s a wrap,”

packs up
wanders off,
mutters, “Now go
clean my car.”

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