When I close my eyes
I've an IMAX silver screen;
My projection room is stacked
With reels of a re-run dream.

I'm typecast as leading man,
You're the starlet, so it seems.
Today I'm screening tragedy,
That I played like comedy.

Two reels have played,
I'll need three,
To disuade me playing a parody.

I'll need to re-write,
And a location set;
I haven't run
The credits yet.

You protested the direction;
The hero fades out with rejection.
It's a cliff-hanger.
Will the girl return
A fallen damsel?
A chastised angel?
A spiteful devil?
I'm lying waiting
To dream the sequel.