She dreamed of Bruce Springsteen at night
But woke to a screen with no sound, no light
Time rolled on like a runaway train
She stood at the station, lost in the rain

The records were scratched, the cassettes were gone
A photo without a frame lingered on
Between Madonna and love that lied
She watched her idols get paperfied

Now it’s just longing for things that missed
Youth trapped in ...

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it began with a close-up

lust licking every frame,

your lens loved my face

before I knew your name

I'm lost in your B-movie

my left profile badly lit,

direction hit and miss

script lacking any wit

zooming like a vampire

you pan along my fears,

cinema verite in spades

the denouement nears

you loved yelling: "Cut!

this reel will be your last",

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