The
rummage sale drew me in
Supporting
the aging Methodists
A worthy
cause
Not that I
needed a reason
It was in
a vacant shop
At the end
of the strip mall
Typical
fair, but a little nicer
I found a
suit my size
Nice dark
wool with a subtle plaid pattern
I would
eventually trade it
For a lime
green Sears suit
A much
better deal
I kept
looking
Then I
found it
A Bell and
Howell projector
In
immaculate condition
Selling
cheap
Because
video tape had killed 8mm film
I can
understand
It’s
quick, cheap and easy
But the
idea of my own film won out
So I
picked it up and carted it home
Strapped
on the back of my bike
A couple
of other thrift stores later
Produced a
camera
A wind up
beauty missing a lens or two
Enough to
get my feet wet
Through
trial and error I made it work
Overexposed
in direct sunlight
Poor
shutter speed in low light
Shaky and
off kilter
It was
brilliant
Avant-garde
amateur cinema
I got to
view my masterpiece twice
Then I
sent the projector to my parents
For safe
keeping
While I
was moving around
In
my earlier years
One year
later I made it home
Eager to
show my films
Excited to
create more
Only to
find the projector gone
My parents
who never threw anything away
Had clean
swept the garage
My
projector a notable casualty
Thus my
directorial career fizzled
For want
of a delivery system
I took the
heartache well
Hid my
film away
And chased
down a young lady
She didn’t
care I wasn’t in film
As she
took my heart’s starring roll
The script
to my masterpiece
Is
still unfinished
The final
cut indefinitely delayed
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