Here I am, horrible, back in this world

when it was still OK for movies to have

intermission, they would wait, is the point,

wait and think, like the wandering and misery

were all just another part of the human condition,

it’s communicable, contagious, right, I know

where you were but not where you will be,

I know who you were, but even the existence,

the choice to exit right now and never have you

save for in my imagination, the power is a cancer,

oh my dear, dearest Lara, the last thing I heard,

you were still encased in ice, if only I had the passion

to be as revolutionary as Strelnikov, yes, melt with

the revolt against plot and script and convention,

I will leave this place and rebuild it with my words,

rebuild a house, a season, a world in which you

and I can live together, untethered by the whirring

wheels of  fifteen minutes, the entr’acte, already rising…