Saturday evening, the week's hired film, click-click, click-click <br />while we chewed fruit gums and shouted FOCUS! <br />from time to time when the reel changed; <br />and after The White Hell of Pitz Palu <br />or The Lost Horizon, and Mickey in black and white <br />and Corky the Cat; after the hired films <br />and the occasional black potato growing on the screen <br />when the celluloid caught fire, <br />the home movies run backwards: <br />and the world was a magic kingdom - <br />things jumped from nowhere into your hands <br />like the world's top ball player; <br />while you ate, the plate filled instead of emptied; <br />and the happy smiles-for-the-camera <br />became inane dissociated grins <br />as if you knew you were being totally idiotic <br />but had no control... <br /> <br />Suppose <br />that life, on Saturday evening, did just that for real: <br />Saturday's trashy film would take on the solemn <br />inevitability of Greek tragedy; <br />shoplifting would be an act of humble charity <br />as one slipped the goods- blink-back onto the counter; <br />and we the older would look so eagerly forward <br />to childishness and irresponsibility <br />(as we alas will; but then more agile and more loved with it) : <br />like teenagers, go to bed alert and wake up tired... <br />and in the bathroom - no, let's not go there... <br /> <br />and then at midnight, Cinderella Time would revert to real time. <br />Boing..oing..oing.. <br /> <br />But under the covers as we blissed off to sleep, <br />a great big, wrinkled, toothy grin...<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/backward-boys/
