My mother shot my birthday movie
Boy, it came out great!
She never took her eye away from that old Super 8
The lens was focused flawlessly,
Each color bold and bright.
Her steady hand stayed steadfast…
…yet, still…
…something wasn’t right…
I’d been taking weeks of diving lessons, hours each afternoon
Perfecting flips and turns and praying
Parents’ Day would get here soon, and finally
Here it was! And coinciding with my day of birth!
O perfect Parents’ Day!
Today, I’ll surely dive for all I’m worth.
Mom was polishing her lenses,
Mom was loading yards of film
One foot balanced on a railing,
Camera hand perfectly still
My name was called amidst the chatter;
Proudly marching toward her, I then,
Pausing as I climbed the ladder, winked to the camcorder
I, atop the highest high dive,
Nimbly tiptoed to the end
And with a gentle bounce,
I launched into the air, arms spread,
and then:
I spun three times counterclockwise,
Four the ordinary way,
Said the Lord’s Prayer twice in Spanish,
Nine salutes,
Twelve tour jettes
Performed a card trick (which I butchered)
Flapped my arms and flailed my legs
I danced three jigs,
I peeled two apples,
Seven pears,
Three hard-boiled eggs
I proofread two risque short stories,
Cartwheeled three times after each
Sketched seventeen concentric circles with no compass,
Wolfed a quiche
Assembled seven model planes,
Auctioned them off and had a buyer
Tied eight different kinds of knots,
And then I set two ants on fire.
I built a robot,
named her Rosie,
learned to fight,
and then I fought her,
And then tightening up my trunks,
I clenched my teeth,
and hit the water.
And my mother got it all
I mean, it really came out great.
She never took her eye away from that old Super 8.
O such artistic prowess, Mother, what an eye for film!
Brilliant were the colors, Mother’s hand was ever still;
She never stumbled, never staggered,
Though there’s one flaw, we’ve agreed.
See, Mother held the camera backward–
She’d an eye for film indeed.