let the past be the past

i grew up with kevin smith I wanna feel passion I wanna feel pain I wanna scream at the sound of your name!

mining through my booklet of dvds

looking for a forgotten gem

that comes across my mind when i say,

"I should watch that this weekend"

before going to the video store for shiny new releases,

ah, Chasing Amy

how you provided me with sample dialogue

for those lean years

between eighth and tenth grade,

yet when i revist you now,

such a cold hermit you seem to be

locked away from the world

as the big band marched on by.

your campy dialogue stings my ears

like a horde of really pissed off wasps.

the quick wit perceived by a naive mind

has been dulled and rusted by life experiences.

aye, i lament at this new world

from when i crawled out of the swamp

only to stare back at my green and brown reflection.

we were privy to the crass and unknown

a secret langugae spoken by youthful tongues

aching to know the taste of vaginias

and the warmth of a perky breast.

alas, that world has been bottled

in individual servings

and a fancy label

appealing to all nationalities and sexes

shines back at me from a store shelf.

cigarette ashes in the tray

and an empty coffee cup

are the only souvenirs we keep.

ah, jason lee! ah, humanity!

Author's Note

last line stolen from herman melville; i'm glad he's dead!