Mark Webb, director (2009, Fox Searchlight)
Barefoot on the jaded sidewalk
with nothing on beneath his jagged robe,
he steps out of the drug store,
stomping where he knows bottles have been thrown
without wincing
as the shards seethe through his flesh.
He lugs his brown paper bag of
twinkies, frozen pizzas, and various
Rite Aid liquors, the cheapest of the cheap,
grunting at strangers he passes on the steps.
"Get a room," he mutters
to a couple that is innocently holding hands,
happening to be in his destructive path.
He is helpless to stop his mind
from flashing to memories of her face.
At the bar last night, he cursed her very existence
but everyone knew he was lying--
what else was he to do with a love unrequited?
He longs to suppress the blazing clarity
with which images of her features come to him;
to belittle the icy blues of her eyes,
to deny their glory. He wants to detach
from the wonders of her body, and perhaps
to forget them all together.
i like the story it tells, i also like the surprise that the brown paper bag has twinkies and pizza rather then a bottle of booze, idk why but it was a nice change up. your imagery and diction were on point.
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