You go in knowing it's already started;
there's a close-up of a girl staring across
a stretch of water, profile, tear on her cheek -
this time you don't look for the camera's
reflection - then the static shot, full face
looking sad as she drives along a road,
not even the upward, arcing angle of tree tops
to lessen the intensity, and you wonder what's
happened to her, a father dying, a crushed child,
and you know that soon the scene will end,
she'll get out, technicians take the camera
off the bonnet, unit director smile and pinch
her arse as the chief grip laughingly drives the
car away, she'll light a cigarette, yawn, tell
a stunt man jokingly to piss off; all the time
that first shot of her is flooding your mind,
and you want to be with her, just with her,
looking across the water.