People talk about film youth like
you lose something human in the process
but I love all the memories attached to
all the things watched and re-watched again.

I remember Mr. Destiny was on all summer one year,
And staying up watching HBO’s first run of
Tales from the Crypt on Elgin Street.

Cheers with Diane and Coach in Newfoundland
then rounding out on the mainland,
years later With Becca, and Woody.

Imitating John Mclaine and jumping off
our back deck yelling
“Yippiekayay Motherfucker!”

Or Chevy Chase “Happy Hanukkah, kiss my ass,
kiss his ass, kiss your ass”.

Taping City TV midnight movies or
Boston late-night horror-thons onto
blank (superior recording quality to VHS)
BETAMAX tapes.

(Night of the Living Dead,
Rebel Without A Cause)

Blitzed on shrooms watching The Doors
and The Wall and writing illegible poems
I still have somewhere.

Watching Basquait and mimicking
his SAMO graffiti with J-,

The infinite re-watching of
Toy Story with Jack to the point we
all knew it word for word.

Blade Runner with Hector,

Pollack with L-
the painter and wild one
whose image is forever connected
to Ed Harris now.

I have fewer memories without a filmic
soundtrack than with.

Coming soon,
another screen night kept
up by a viewing moon,
waxing, waning into next years
coming attractions.