in the movies


depression only lasts 3 days,
during which time, you stylishly cocoon
in a gray cashmere sweater
that wraps you from shoulders to heels

and the surly old neighbor’s reluctant revelation
of his life’s sorrow
draws you out of it within four minutes flat.

/ / /

In the movies that old man will, for a time,
become the dad you never had;
he’ll teach you tough love and horticulture;
he’ll tell you a hole is to dig;
he’ll relax in a lawn chair
while you wrestle stubborn ivy for weeks;
he’ll chomp biscuits in the window
of his warm kitchen, watching
you in pajamas and rain boots,
frantically rounding up the starter seed
being pummeled by a violent storm.

/ / /

in the movies even though you’re an orphan,
living on what little the local library pays,
you’re able to hire a personal chef

who speaks Gaelic
and gives you the first hug you’ve had all year.

/ / /

In the movies at last,
a beautiful inventor
sweeps you off your feet.
soon you’ll marry and birth mythical robots—
all named after the proxy father who,
on top of everything else,
showed you your first and last
blood-red
begonia.



(movie review poem of This Beautiful Fantastic)