CHOICES
How did we get here? How the hell?
Pan left, close on the steeple of the church.
How did I get here, how the hell? Christmas! Christmas Eve, last year.
How could a night so frozen be so scalding hot?
How can a morning this mild be so raw?
Why are entire years strewn on the cutting room floor of memory,
When single frames from one magic night forever flicker in close-up on the 3-D Imax of my mind?
That's poetic - that's pathetic.
Why did Mimi knock on Roger's door? And Collins choose that phone booth back where Angel set up his drums?
Why did Maureen's equipment break down?
Why am I the witness and when I capture it on film,
Will it mean that it's the end and I'm alone?
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