proclaimed the text, after the movie
credits rolled and the curtains
draped back over the screen— sheer
enough though, so one could still see
the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer lion as it opened
its golden mouth and roared beneath the motto
“Ars Gratia Artis,” a Latin phrase
which translates as “Art for art’s sake”—
Meaning, whatever story has just brought you
to the precipice of rapture or tears
has nothing, supposedly, to do with your own life,
or life in general. For it’s just life after all,
unlike in the movies: messy, unscripted,
thorny, unpredictable, unlikely
to arrive at clear resolution; drab,
even, against heightened technicolor,
a soaring musical soundtrack, the artful
montage of moments. Whereas in life,
mostly, when something does come to an end,
it is The End— the money running out
for rent, for school, for the emergency
operation; end of the affair, the marriage;
goodbye at the end of the pier,
the drunk sailors leaving with no
further thought of their one-night stand…
And no one wants to think anymore
of the foetid stench in the streets, of waifs
wandering at dawn with garlands of flowers
and outstretched palms, or the transgender found
in a hotel room with her head in the toilet bowl.
In response to Via Negativa: End of the month.