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I said goodbye to my friends
and stepped outside
to smoke one last cigarette.

The chorus, "Tell me lies,
tell me sweet little lies,"
was playing in my head -
the windows displayed me
standing straight
in a long, black coat,
exhaling smoke.

Like the final scene of a television show.

I remember thinking
that was the point
when I put out my cigarette
and walked inside:
roll credits.

But the windows in the hall
were also reflecting me
and maybe that would be the final scene.

Getting into an elevator,
what could be more final than that
except, of course
for the long silent scene
of descending alone in an elevator.
What could be more lonely,
more poignant?
Surely you'll tune in again.

But then
there's always going into the dorm room
or sitting down at the computer
to type a poem.

No.
Far too interesting
for a proper fade out.

The last scene:
laying down in bed
eyes wide open
staring at the ceiling?

No matter what,
it seems like the credits would roll
before the part where
I
actually have to figure out
how to fall asleep.
©2005-2009 ~evad
:iconevad:

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:iconlyttleblankyta:
i love the imagry and the whole television show theme. perfectly ended, too. this is really great.

--
I'd bury this pen into my veins.
:icontatami:
...this reminds me of me
or what I want me tobe.

--
Doing things right and good
Doing things the way we should
:iconintremedy:
Awesome shit man... I knew there was a reason I subscribed to you. I don't think line eleven fits, but everything else is great. I really like how the second to last stanza is a question, like how no one can really know.

--
God doesn't have a plan.... But I bet he knows what he's doing.
:iconjustb:
I noticed that you opened this poem with a line about friends, and then travelled into the uncomfortably quiet, but not unsettling aloneness.

That, and I felt you free your voice a little bit, and in some respects, with this poem, I finally "see" what you mean to say and do in poetry.

That's a compliment to you by the way. I'll explain, briefly.

You are a work in progress. I don't mean that in the cliche superficial outlook of a friend way either. You walk and talk of visions, grand. And they seem permanently in a suspended state of non-motion. Well, I see, in this poem, your maturing and expressive side finally getting the ball rolling in a direction. Any direction is ok at this point. It, moves, fluidly but with certain respect to a living breadth. (I use breadth even though I'm not sure of its legitimacy as a word.)

Human breadth. Of activity. So, it's a respect or with respect to the human experience, and not the broad human experience, the narrower the experience, the more gems therewithin.

--
"I've taken enough walks alone
to know how real nothing is."
~dystopian-dream-girl
:iconjustb:
also, that last stanza is really making me want to go upstairs to bed. i think i'll do just that.

--
"I've taken enough walks alone
to know how real nothing is."
~dystopian-dream-girl
:iconswim-inside:
I like this idea but I'm not sure I fully understand it. I mean the only real fade out or final scene in life is death. I feel like you are trying to look at your own life through someone elses eyes which is kind of interesting I guess but utimately seems somewhat pointless. You begin to touch on the futility of it at the end. The way the credits would be an unfitting end that wouldn't allow any real sleep. But there are no credits and there is an eventual sleep. I'm just unsure of what this artificially placed ending is supposed to be.
:iconunderthemidnightsun:
Great ending....I love how controlled you keep this- covering so many things all within the same idea of the television show. Nicely done.
:iconevad:
"You walk and talk of visions, grand. And they seem permanently in a suspended state of non-motion."

Nobody has ever summed up what both hated and beautiful about me so well. This still applies strongly, the beginning of motion you saw is another suspended idea.

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December 5, 2005
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