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",

one quick dissolve to fade

my starring role miscast

 

after the closing credits

on the cutting room floor

you left my best footage

my lion roars no more