Playhouse

Playhouse

Film strip loaded in the projector
Doesn’t look any bit familiar
Every time the reels are changed
It’s just the same old sepia thing

Some movies I’ve watched before
It’s been so long since the premiere
Vaguely remembered: the A/V
Hardly recognized what it is to me

Overlooped to disintegration
Until it melts in meaning as haven
These old films don’t make me cry
Lost impact and merit to these eyes

But I still load those magnetic reels
Try and incite forgotten feelings
No longer as biography or tragedy
Only as art and grand alchemy

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