Dispatches from the corner of Hollywood and Motherhood
By Mia Sara
The Aftertaste Of Stardust
I walked out of La La Land. The Movie.
Not the town. The movie business, yes
I walked out of that too, before the third act,
the final fromage, the Technicolor fondue,
the hipster flipside Hollywood ending.
I’d seen enough of that for one night,
slash twenty-five years slash lifetime.
Paint my wagon and call me old fashioned
but I like a little less salt in my wounds,
and a little more on my popcorn. It kills
the aftertaste of stardust that swallowed
my youth. Dreams are good for exposing
the truth. Nice work, if you can get it,
or sell it, or tweet it, or post it on YouTube,
where there is no there like Fred Astaire
but everybody’s cat is dancing on the ceiling,
and fantasy is the new reality, and reality
is made mundane by forcing it to heel,
toe heel, toe heel, and shuffle ball change.
Nothing is sacred, not even the name
I call myself. A doe, a deer, a dumbed down
Democracy, where I check my privilege
but cling to my affinities, like nostalgia,
my favorite class A drug, when taken
for the kicks, it works like a charm,
but heaven knows, if anything goes,
it will leave you holding an empty box
of Cracker Jack, and clean coal technology,
and a hefty rope to hang your neighbor.
And all this before the credits roll,
and the lights come up, and it’s too late
to save the dignity of the snoring man
in the aisle seat, who stepped on your feet
before he sat down, but didn’t notice.
Mia Sara used to be an actress, but recovered her senses and now she writes. Her work has been published in Superstition Review, Helix, poemmemoirstory, The Summerset Review, PANK, the Write Room, among many others. Her chapbook, Mid-Life With Gorilla was published by Dusie Press, and she had a long running column “Wrought and Found” for PANK Magazine. She lives between New York City and Los Angeles with her husband, Brian Henson, and her children. Read more from Mia at her website.