Roll The Credits
I slipped into the theatre, unnoticed by the crowd,
Disguised by heavy sunglasses, and hidden ‘neath a shroud;
I found a seat toward the back, and settled in, unseen,
As “Coming Soon” attractions played upon the silver screen.
The audience was restless – murmurs grew throughout the horde,
Each chatting there amongst themselves, some thrilled and others bored;
I heard some conversation, just some snippets as they talked,
“They say it’s quite the story!” People whispered, blabbed and mocked.
“It’s autobiographical,” I heard from up ahead,
“It’s loosely based upon the life of some poor soul,” she said.
I sunk a little lower to the depths within my seat,
And hunkered down with mixed emotion, popcorn at my feet.
An endless time elapsed until a hush fell through the air,
The flash of “Feature Presentation” calmed the people there;
They settled in as titles rolled, and names of cast were played,
A potpourri of famous stars was patently displayed.
The music faded, as the picture came into it’s own,
And there before me, played my life, with all it’s drama shown;
The audience was mesmerized – they cried, they joked, they cheered,
At times they oohed and awed in shock, while others laughed and jeered.
I watched the actors play their parts, portraying all I’d known,
A lifetime shrunk to ninety minutes, cut to barest bone;
They made it more exciting than it ever was to me ...
Exaggerating all that I had somehow come to be.
Decisions I had made in life were amplified and skewed,
I watched the parody unfold, though somewhat misconstrued;
Before I knew it, it was done, the crowd began to clap,
Applauding for the drama ... while my hands stayed in my lap.
I listened as the audience reviewed my final fate,
While exiting the theatre in lively, strong debate;
They pondered there amongst themselves, as if they knew me well,
Amazed at how I’d waded through this life I’d known as hell.
I kept my seat and watched the final credits on the screen,
The accolades to all who’d set the stage and played the scene;
Directors, sound effects, producers, editors and grips,
The list was never-ending – all the standard closing quips.
My name was nowhere on the list, but as the credits rolled,
In front of me, in black and white, the final story scrolled;
“These characters are just fictitious, no one real,” it said,
“They bear no true resemblance to those living or those dead.”
Alone within the theatre, I pondered on that phrase,
For far too long, I’d wandered through a catatonic haze;
Alive, and yet not living ... numb enough to be deceased,
I’d finally broken from the mold ... I’d finally been released.
The lights came up, the screen went blank, “their” story ended there,
I brushed the popcorn from my lap, and stood up from my chair;
“The End” was just a common phrase ... for little did they know,
“The Future” was the title ... of the sequel to this show.