Auteur; or the Dire Consequence of Teenage Love Films
The movies are written by losers like me
The movies are written by losers like me,
Playing as white noise from the T.V. while I try to sleep.
Opening scenes dramatize my defeats
Told a friend it’s no longer the “no’s” which surprise me.
An unpopular girl gives the best advice
Sitting shotgun in his car idling at traffic lights, but
Lust for the stranger a daydreams retreat;
Oh the movies are written by losers like me.
She walks into class to a slow motion scene
Hands clenched in his pockets as she approaches her seat.
Arduously probing the compartments of his mind , fails
To muster the courage for some witty opening line.
At the quarterback’s party on a Saturday night
He clenches a red cup passing through disco ball dancing light
Surveying clusters of pupil’s for his beloved north star,
By the pool laughing in spaghetti straps spotting her from afar.
Words grovel on pavement spewed by chattering teeth
Staring longingly in her eyes waiting for her to speak
Leaning in for the kiss the starlet embraces his back, as
The camera pans out with music and credits roll black.
Now they all seem to be rated PG-13, while busy
Jr. high boy’s finger their dates in reclining leather seats.
A charming underdog’s conquest plays the princess’s conceit
The movies are written by losers like me.
