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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required She headed up the stairs as John closed the front door, heading out for the evening run. She finished threading the projector and glued the two ends of the loop of sixteen millimeter film. Preparing background for a new commercial, it needed to be special, for she was coming up for review with the Seattle boss in two weeks. A meeting with the boss of bosses could only end one way in her mind’s eye. There is no room for error. A simple commercial, her husband was the cast, as usual. John didn’t mind. In fact he doted on being a tv star, though no one knew who he was. She turned on the projector just as he crossed the intersection below the apartment. Intending to go two blocks and cut through the park he was confused as to why he took the short cut through the alley. Wonderful project, that alley. His wife’s baby. Her coup de etat of architectural restoration. The old Boston soon to rival Atlanta underground. He had to stop and rest a bit. Man he was out of shape. Darn, she thought. How can I ever get through if it keeps breaking. She was working on an interactive presentation using computer enhancements of what was on the sixteen millimeter projecter. She should have bought new film but too late for that now. Soon repaired she watched John jog down the cobble, in the movie. What is going on John thought? He never trotted around and around the block. On his third trip he again intended to head on down through the park. The dogwood so beautiful this time of year. So tired he literally stumbled, coming to a halt, fortunately by a street vender. He bought a snow cone. She was busy splicing the film once again. A silent curse word on her breath, maybe she should have asked John to help. He was so much better at this. Just as the vender attempted to hand him the snow cone, John felt the urge to run again. It was the fifth time he had run around his own block. He managed to retrieve the snow cone on the fly as he hardly slowed while passing. Nearing the apartment entrance he knew he had to do something. Gathering all his concentration he managed to dart into the building. Bursting into the room at the top of the stairs he saw himself on the screen. “Shut if off” he begged, not really knowing why. But the instant it stopped, he fully understood. Apr 17 2011 My poem is Surreal
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