Film Noir

 

When  I got home I wrote a play about the trip

and recorded myself reading it, in a monotone,

on a video tape.  My white hair, white beard,

and white T-shirt against a black backdrop.

It was very film noir.  Very South Florida gothic.

Eating at Arby’s.  Century Village.  Frank Costanza

watching Seinfeld on TV, in Del Boca Vista.

When the show traveled to Orlando, Fran sent

the tape with it, and a viewer could watch me

reading a play about attending the show in Tallahassee

on a continuous loop, a sort of a latter-day, or post-modern

Tom Gaskin’s Cypress Knee Museum on Highway 27 experience.

What you have here is a tape that will tell you everything you want to know.

And then some.  Be careful when you stare into the abyss it doesn’t stare back.

You are watching The Stepford Wives.  You are a Stepford Husband.

Aiee, The Phantom.  I think of people watching it,

and wondering if it’s me who’s crazy.

 


 

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