I've spent the day in my pajamas, eating Betty Crocker vanilla frosting out of the container. To offset all of the pathetic (or awesome?) that is my Sunday, here's some poetry:
Hiroshima Mon Amour
"I AmThe Only One Who Knows!"
The shot is shallow--
Within the frame there is
very little room for anything to happen
outside of the actions of the characters.
They are close--embracing tightly
We are close--
eyes closed in on only what is presented
before us; It is a close-up.
There is no scope.
The blurs of the background show
Hiroshima, still alive and moving,
continuing as usual.
As we will soon forget the lovers' embrace
and all they will become is a token
of love's forgetfulness.
When they part and step into the arms
of another lover, or out from behind the screen
and back into the chill and light of real life,
and we are forced to leave the cinema for our
real lives, where we are all joined by the
collective memory of an individual experience.
"I am the only one knows,"
what we have all seen.
I am the only one who will remember your name.
No comments:
Post a Comment