Last to Leave
Author: Bill Roberts
Unless it’s a riotous comedy,
I’m usually the last to leave
a movie theater, hesitantly
walking down the steps
from the uppermost row.
My mother passed along this gift
of crying at the slightest
provocation, the reaction
to abuse, misuse or tragedy -
even sudden upbeat endings.
Is it weakness for a man to cry?
I used to think so, so I formed
the habit of reading final credits
to their end, wiping my eyes,
donning my pilot’s sunglasses.
What makes it worse is that
my wife has the same affliction,
considerably more noticeable
than mine, causing us often to stay
seated till the floorsweepers come.
“Juno” was the last tearjerker we saw
together, along with dozens of kids
in their teens enjoying Sex Ed 101,
none of them crying, just laughing
as they left. Lucky dumbbells.
(Published online in a Fall 2008 issue of Long Story Short)
Note: To say that Irene and I get caught up in the moment of a drama, so to speak, is understatement. I try my hardest to believe what I’m seeing (or hearing or reading), to gain greater impact from movie, play, opera, book or whatever. Of course, a price has to be paid for such emotion – a two-hour movie usually lasts 2-1/2 hours for us. The great American poet, Shoshauna Shy, e-mailed me after reading this poem and said the last two words, “Lucky dumbbells,” knocked her out. It is a heartfelt statement: those kids were lucky, but dumbbells certainly.
