He can create an original screenplay
according to Hollywood format
but the spell-check bypasses flaws
like “their our” for “there are.”
He can select a reputable cast
and conduct an organized read through
but can’t find his graph calculator
in time for algebra class.
He can spreadsheet a shooting schedule
and scour the county for props
but squanders his time on location
struggling in search for his glasses.
He can set up a two-camera shoot
and direct everything but the weather
but eight plus seven and common division
are glitches that routinely stall his momentum.
He’s a master of cinema technique
steady between close-up and wide
who can cut, fade and dissolve with aplomb
but sometimes forgets how to open his locker.
And now to the piece de resistance–
the analog-digital editing conversion,
a feat in my eyes beyond Darien’s peak
accomplished sans mentor and manual this week.
But Monday the video maker, my son,
has misplaced his shoes for the drive to school
and his pencils for class are gathering dust
in the door well of Dad’s Oldsmobile.
*Accepted in the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA)