Technicolor Brain
There are rapturous moments
Of clarity in thought
Where I can taste and smell
And feel the images
Flashing behind my eyes.
Between my ears,
A perfect storm of sensational fantasy
Whorls itself together,
Engulfing my very soul
With an epiphany.
The film is crisp,
The projector whirs smoothly,
And the story plays out
In tremendous color accuracy
And high definition details.
The screen of my attention span
Is sometimes scorched
From the feature presentation.
More often than not,
However,
I run on a technicolor nervous system.
My ideas come through,
But they are recycled:
Usually borrowed scenery of past movies
And carefully spliced strips.
I pick the Pantone paints down
And mix them one scene at a time,
Coloring up what I need.
These reels flicker more.
They hold a certain magic to me:
The rough, honest idea,
Bold and imperfect and blatantly nostalgic...
Yes, these stories are my favorites.
Sometimes they are altogether original,
Though the newer plots
Are known to commandeer
Favorite lines, symbols, and even personalities
Of the graceful tried-and-true.
My mind stays in technicolor mode
Quite often.
At any given moment,
I am remembering and recoloring,
And creating a unique story all my own.
The blossoming film strips
Often end up scattered and tangled,
But I know my brain well;
I sort them out as needed.
(The crossing of stories
Is terribly intriguing sometimes,
However.)
- Shae Saltgrave