Remind me again
of the where and when of it,
it’s slipping through my finger memories
and my heart slows
Tell me of the Technicolor past,
even with the scratched film stock
I need to see it again
to affirm the mummers truth
and rest easy
I know you tire of the words,
of me,
sorry, sorry me
But the third reel is fixed
and the epilogue’s flickered approach
rattles near
Before the credits roll
narrate me a last flashback
to suspend our disbelief in
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 8:12 AM UTC
Remind me again
of the where and when of it,
it’s slipping through my finger memories
and my heart slows
Tell me of the Technicolor past,
even with the scratched film stock
I need to see it again
to affirm the mummers truth
and rest easy
I know you tire of the words,
of me,
sorry, sorry me
But the third reel is fixed
and the epilogue’s flickered approach
rattles near
Before the credits roll
narrate me a last flashback
to suspend our disbelief in
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