Prose poem: Rolling Thunder

A word to the wise: everything is not as it appears. But then, I could be wrong.

Rolling Thunder

If you drive by a movie theater and see

Rolling Thunder on the marquee, a film

you’ve long wanted to see, and arrive

early the next day for a matinee and pay

to see the ‘75 Dylan tour film made by

Martin Scorsese, and you buy popcorn

and an IPA and pick a good seat on the

aisle half way, and wonder why the place

is so empty and ponder how all the fools

outside on this Spring day puttering about

the yard, planting flowers, weeding the

garden, mowing the lawn are missing out on

what promises to be a joyous, carnivalesque,

musical trip back in time, rolling with Dylan,

Baez, and troupe — you may be surprised

to see in the opening credits: Starring William

Devane and Tommie Lee Jones, and you may

choke on a popcorn kernel and spit it out as

you realize you have blundered and gone to

the wrong damn Rolling Thunder, as I did last

Wednesday. You may learn from the woman

behind the counter that the Rolling Thunder

being shown concerns a Vietnam vet who

seeks revenge when his family is killed, and

the Dylan film is called Rolling Thunder Revue.

You may utter an expletive or two. You may

conclude that revenge is not for you, as I did,

and receive a free movie pass. You may drive

home blue, with the popcorn bag between your

legs and join all the other fools outside in the

buttery sun and mow the lawn. You may later

discover that Rolling Thunder is considered one

of the best revenge flicks ever made and that it

was written by Paul Schrader who wrote Taxi Driver

for Scorsese a year earlier. You may decide to see

both films — revenge first, then music — and let

the grass grow. You may wish to return to a time

when life could be enormously uplifting, and you

may rise in the morning full of hope and finish

the popcorn for breakfast, as I did. Five stars!