He works at a drive-in theatre
not a bad job
lots of movies.
Some tedious tasks,
he has to check every speaker in the field.
Turn up volume,
listen,
move to next post.
Turn up volume,
listen,
move to next post.
Turn up volume,
listen,
move to next post.
500 times.
Today the light is yellow, electric,
turbulent clouds roiling ominously.
He stops,
transfixed.
Staring at the half-brick in his hand.
Where the hell did that come from?
He looks around, bemused.
Five rows back at the edge of the field
is a small pile of rubble.
He smiles gently,
perhaps a little wickedly.
Of course.
In the middle of a field of metal posts,
an electric storm brewing.
If lightning strikes,
if there is a judgemental god,
he will meet that prick
armed with a half-brick.
ah, our judgements...
lol Jess, I expected to come into this poem and hate it, but you blew me away, you Aussie bastard. Sad imagery for me, as drive - ins aren’t a dying, they’re a dead breed here in the states. You wrote so vividly here that I was transfixed, awed, and sated. I shall post my poem “Memphis,” which is also about a drive - in, thanks to your inspiration.
Mark
and welcome back
missed you, you bastard.
cheers,
Jess
many thanks Mark
cheers,
Jess
Ugly truths
This is a sweaty, slow moving poem with a nasty punch to it—the misery of the average man’s life pitted against cosmic abstractions. The success lies in your vivid portrayal of the protagonist/antihero: just a guy sick of everything who works at a theatre. An interesting and impacting piece.
ta quill
you nailed the feeling, tho there is always a sense of mischief when jess/weirdelf/kooka is involved
8)
cheers,
Jess
Nice
Nicely written . a joy to read.
One question folks
if any of you re-visit this posting, should I have written in the first person? It was a profoundly disturbing and liberating experience I actually had, yes it’s all true.
cheers,
Jess
re:
absolutely, yes. Would have made an excellent poem even more real, superior.
Killing God
I like it much better in first-person.
~ Ronda