The Screaming Sheep

               How Self Centered of Us to Term Other Dimensions as Alternate

                            -M.J.T.

 

We piece along the night with flashlight glares and picture-bulb-pops. They said they’re filming a movie and we walked right in. Okay, so where’s a good place to eat, L. hasn’t eaten since lunch and that was years ago, we’re in the woods and you’re filming a movie? It has to do with werewolves you’ll say picking up the last box and here let me help with that camera, it looks heavy, no, he says, it’s expensive, and yeah, that’s why it’s heavy she throws it down on the curb, good enough I only kept clothes in drawers, sucking up all the dust in the light shadows and the director pisses in a bottle behind the trailer.

 

We doctor it all up, pitch camp in a town square with a nice café, the angles squared away and new corners for holding pictures and damn, a fruit basket for you, she says actions and I brace for speak louder than the shutter claps a good hard clap, the crew gets coffee on the tab, a tab, whose tab, and this cat?

 

Back out for November re-shoots she said the sun was in the lens, her eyes, the lace of her dress. Here’s where you stood, that’s the signed copy, have you got the lines straight? I was a waitress she says, flipping under the camera screen shaking at the knees, standing between the doorway that’s two birch trees, falling leaves.

 

Edit with a whiskey glass, the city back again from its revival, its seminars, its meetings, it’s winter. Sure the glare makes it hard to see, we always saw with flashlights, it made it hard to see ourselves she texts, with a deadline, with a plane ticket.