The Blue, part 2

Most films make me cry,

or nearly do,

not just because they're

sad, or

funny - so I laugh so hard

it brings the tears -

but because I'm jealous

of the way they

travel, and don't just get

one shot

at things like running

mad into the ocean,

like buying the best

food near a Marseilles

dock on a specific date

in one specific year.

They last shorter than

the average human life,

much shorter,

and yet I envy

them because

once they stop they

get to get played again,

the same,

unchanged,

and so there's always hope

at the end of

Shawshank,

leaves me wishing I could say the same for me -

the only thing I

have over cinematic

masterworks is

that my will, at least,

is free,

but I get to thinking

that might not be

enough, if I don't

have another

Marseilles moment soon...

Still, the future's what

you make of it, I

guess

and it's my fault

if I choose to spend

it going green-eyed

over films in my

front room.