The Last Picture Show
A golden key, a plea, an unconscious
clue for freedom unnoticed
unfolds in unexpected mediums
a life in rapid decay and slowly dying
The Last Picture Show
They were both 43
Four decades ago
a bitter woman filled with hate
baring fangs with a venomous bite
a weak and desperate man seeking escape
caged and cornered with no way out
The boy lacked insight, he lacked the words
failing to understand at age 12
what his intuition already knew
the growing storm clouds overtaking
the faded vestiges of the man’s humanity
The Last Picture Show
The snake coiled and struck
again, and again, and again, and again
over the moments, minutes, hours, days, months, and years
lies, delusions, judgments, and gossip
toxins ever increasing, poisons ever worsening
the man’s soul wobbly weakening
The boy was Houdini, his gift a way out
magically creating a new life while deceiving the serpent
the gift eluded the man
unfathomable the mystery
his soul had begun to set
The Last Picture Show
A life retreated, an unconditional surrender
to bitterness, melancholy, and hate
oh, what could have been . . .
a man once compassionate, brimming with laughter,
possessor of a tender touch, expanded horizons. . .
shrank into a shell of himself
A last gasp, a clue left behind
for the boy Houdini who eluded the serpent
and found a way out
Now a man of wisdom. . .
Trusting his intuition . . .
Belying his intelligence . . .
to unlock the mystery of his father’s desperation
Four decades ago . . .
The Last Picture Show
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