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A movie star died a day or two ago
She was 97.
She would to say hello to my mother
At evening musicals full of teenaged boys
that I lusted after years ago
She would wave and smile with sparkling eyes
I’d look at mother
Amused, she would say softly
“I don’t know!”
We would giggle together
A rare event

Mother was no chorine
nor wardrobe mistress
She did not peak in the 50s
She did not dance with her husband
under the moon at the Bel Air Bay Club
Her daughter did not write a pop song that oddly charted
She did not struggle to remain in the public’s imagination
They had nothing in common but perhaps a lovely face and a skill at survival
Mom could make her husband move her closer to Johnny on the dance floor.
Whichever direction, Dad obliged.

They locked down that school today
Warned by a rifle in a photo
Of an unstable football pro

These women are dead now
so none’s the wiser
“When you’re a victim of bullying, an option is revenge." said the alumna.
“Just a precaution,” replied the school.

Mother would have been 97 this year as well.
Maybe they’ve met again,
two streaks of illuminated emptiness
Engaging with reservations
Over fitting in and going insane
Over the low self-regard in a champion
Being lost at sea.
Laz Farrell Feb 2018
Can’t get my head round the email
“Help me get it right”
“It’s why you do what you do”
“What you do best”
“This will wipe out the opposition”
After much soul searching he took the role
A fugitive who lives with an urban family
An honest story that comments on our times
Or an expensive risk?
It’s a case in point
I could tell you stories you couldn’t print.

A deal was made
Much needed publicity
This one can’t miss
A sure fire winner
Lavishly budgeted?
Almost everything was shot at the ranch....
I Remember the poster in the foyer
“The Goal of the assassin”
“Two ****** hours”
Initially the subject of media ridicule
An eyesore trashed traded or hauled away
Luckily fast forgotten
It died a humiliating death

— The End —