Poem 72 Revised

In the adolescence of exam week; no tests for days.
Shopping for horror films in the library with a borrowed card.
And for what? So I can sit here and pretend we all
didn’t just fail that Spanish exam… maybe it was
only me…
                 Muttering puttering stuttering, hiccups on paper
would look like hesitant curls of thrice erased answers, wisps
of changing enlightenment. We forgive hiccups, but ignorance
well, that’s why we learn tongues, to keep open minded, open mouthed.
I can sit here and watch over and over, dramatic irony gore glory
something gritty in a horror film with subtitles, pretending
I can hear their worry, would choose the right door, would run fast enough,
But the hiccups would come again, decisions made sloppy with indecision,
speed compromised with second guessing, drawing attention to
the alien notion of an uncomfortable situation.
Maybe that’s the point: a borrowed language, a borrowed cinema,
A borrowed plot line to see to the end… I suppose I’ll see you there. ­