Posing for the selfie
Published in
1 min readAug 26, 2019
It’s the pictures that got small — Norma Desmond
— in this back lot topped with palms
who cares if I am not the promising young writer?
No human hits the notes, though down below,
they’re waiting for the diva. I watch the scene:
the question paramount — which is the perception,
which the fact? In this movie of myself
there’s a hologram around my neck, pretending
it’s a guest pass — I strike a pose…Jaws, King Kong,
stand-ins for the fears I played with as a kid…Hitchcock’s
icy blonde I excavate from selfscape. Let me turn
the light where it belongs: which is the life
I call my own?
