Who is better than a movie? Not me,
Although sometimes when I am soaking in the tub
I am pretty good. I walk down
The aisle of shampoos and conditioners at the supermarket
And imagine these beautiful liquids
Sitting on my bathroom window sill glowing like
Stained glass windows as an old
Stephane Grappelli record plays in the other room,
And that is almost a movie.

Who is better than a movie? You are,
At least you would be if you kept sour cream & onion sprinkle
In your kitchen. ‘You’ve been soaking
For half an hour,’ you would call to me as the microwave buzzed,
Notifying us that the popcorn is ready.
And you’d pad into the other room
To flip the old record over, moving through
A dozen pools of beautiful light,
And that is almost a movie,

Maybe even the same movie. I’d dry
My hairy legs while you plucked black kernels
From the Fiestaware bowl
And the camera would cut from one of us to the other,
Music crisp and loud while you pluck,
Muffled and soft while I rub.
In the background, a bottle of lavender shampoo (blurred),
And puddles shaped like my feet
All the way down the hallway.

We are not better than a movie, because
Nothing is better than a movie. But we
Can be as good as a movie,
So long as the light cooperates
And gravity does not fail,
Even without sour cream & onion sprinkle
To redeem all disappointments.