I would like to watch a movie tonight
in which a stranger rides into town
or where someone embarks on a long journey,
a movie with the promise of danger,
danger visited upon the citizens of the town
by the stranger who rides in,
or the danger that will befall the person
on his or her long hazardous journey
it hardly matters to me
so long as I am not in danger,
and not much danger lies in watching
a movie, you might as well agree.
I would prefer to watch this movie at home
than walk out in the cold to a theater
and stand on line for a ticket.
I want to watch it lying down
with the bed hitched up to the television
the way they’d hitch up a stagecoach
to a team of horses
so the movie could pull me along
the crooked, dusty road of its adventures.
I would stay out of harm’s way
by identifying with the characters
like the bartender in the movie about the stranger
who rides into town,
the fellow who knows enough to duck
when a chair shatters the mirror over the bar.
Or the stationmaster
in the movie about the perilous journey,
the fellow who fishes a gold watch from his pocket,
helps a lady onto the train,
and hands up a heavy satchel
to the man with the mustache
and the dangerous eyes,
waving the all-clear to the engineer.
Then the train would pull out of the station
and the movie would continue without me.
And at the end of the day
I would hang up my oval hat on a hook
and take the shortcut home to my two dogs,
my faithful, amorous wife, and my children
Molly, Lucinda, and Harold, Jr.
I really dig this poem. It’s written by Billy Collins from Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems. It has all the qualities I like in a poem: beauty, metaphor, humor, and one good line after another. Sigh.
Over on Dawn’s blog there is information on how you can submit your work for possible inclusion in a new book on visual journaling by Rockport publishing. Deadline is May 15, 2007.
It’s a cool 57 degrees tonight in Los Angeles. 30% chance of rain. Dewpoint is at 47 degrees. Winds are 2 mph from the south. Cat posse is all accounted for. I’m heading to the art table right after I put on my French Cabaret CD from Myrna Erlichman which I bought in San Miguel de Allende exactly 1 week and 1 day ago.