You were embarrassed how the movie aged.
A film you loved so well that you would cite
it as part of your identity of a pop culture window
to you that would not be stored in the basement
with other memorabilia. Worst of all, another
touchstone had to be found or did it?
Would it mean I had given up,
like not even a finger-comb before going out?
It ID’d me as old. It was only 35 years old,
how could it be a relic so soon?
If Plato dropped in would he be dismissed
because he didn’t know the initials J.F.K.?
Become a street person for an inability to relate?
It had been chosen with care–timeless music (so far),
great performances, but people don’t get married
in their early twenties anymore and obsessive love
is now hindered with a restraining order,
blatant Christian imagery reserved for orthodox auteurs.
The replacement has to be a cultural watershed.
Important without being ponderous,
not too cool or would be of the moment,
a twisted and uncomfortable tangle with mores,
or maybe I will run a marathon.
Paul Handley spent a career as a student and a student of odd jobs. He has an MA, an MPA, and is ABD. He has driven a cab and sold meat door-to-door. Paul has work included or forthcoming in Anemone Sidecar, Apollo’s Lyre, Boston Literary Magazine, The Shine Journal, and others.
© 2009, Paul Handley
Halfway Down the Stairs 