27 going on 27, or several more arguments against monogamy
plenty of room for a crowd. crowded
kind of empty, the diminuendo of a teenage coming-of-age movie, where age is just another
place you never thought you’d be.
your uncles hunting for bears outside Anchorage. this part of
the equation is when the film catapults into horror. oh god fuck. there’s a bloody wedding
dress & several different greatest hits CDs of Simon & Garfunkel. oh
fuck god, no. the belt sander wants to marry you. the staple remover wishes to wed
you. your ex-father walks you down the aisle
of the Meijers & he is so very sorry. they’re out of pomegranates, which never
happens. for anyone to be alone would defy the Hollywood dilemma, its crucifix,
its crown shyness. the hero/ine is not the hero/ine. no one wants
to be alone, says no one.
as the credits roll there are kisses, an upbeat dance. supporting cast members
get their moment to shine, go on, it’s your turn, to commentate on the theme of happy
endings.
everyone loves destruction in some form or tenor. there are no known facts about love. so much so that many defectors consider it a pseudoscience. there’s a place with fresher
fruit elsewhere, there has to be, you tell your ex-
father. the middle of nowhere is full of nowhere. maybe it’s where fulfillment goes. cut.
cut, cut, cut. if a person is a place. if. then count everyone in.
