Score this, he said handing
me the celluloid.
The silent short had been lifted from
Four women treading water at
a buoy or
standing outside an organic food store.
not been successful: too much
it in the original German, the
smoke off one of their cigarettes—overstated
in black-and-white. I watch it
eighteen times. I learn their
teeth by heart.
Each of them makes several attempts
up and go. That
they are talking about
malformed lovers, dogs,
engaging. But what matters is how
end it. I try to score the
film with silk, then
magnets, then steel
cable. I wind brick
around platinum for a through-line.
get them right. I
ask my instructor back in
with hither-come eyes and a blond leg out
door. Pleaseplease show me how I’ve botched
watches my version—asks, Where will they go
if they do manage to dissolve?
I get it, it
shudders me. I decide on an
cellophane drifting from an
onto the floor. I am thinking—this
another trope, and for any girl, girls
girls unlike me, it is quite good enough.