VHS Movie Memories - A Poem
When I was a young child
I grew up in a place that
sold collective dreams on
magnetic tape.
Amongst celluloid heroes
I swung through hidden jungles,
delved deep down
ancient ruins, and fought
valiant sword battles
along the empty aisles.
For imagination was abundant
and reality had yet to take
possession of reason, so I lived
in the wondrous intermingling
of make-believe and fact, truth
tinged by wild fantasy.
Then one day a Gorilla
intruded into my happy world.
With large sharp teeth in
Its wide-open mouth, and an
animalistic bellow, its large
hairy body came closer. I
screamed and bolted
to my sanctuary. Shaking,
crying, hiding, hoping beyond
hope that Gorilla’s don’t eat
little boys — and if they did,
perhaps he wouldn’t find me,
if I just muffled my cries.
Silence.
I was picked up from under
the counter. My eye’s closed,
expecting this to be the end
of my short existence, but I
was held against a body of
cuddles and happiness.
“It’s only Peter,” my mother said,
“look and see.’ And I saw that it
was a man, mask in hand.
‘Do you want to say hello?’ she asked,
and although I now knew that it was
just a man in a suit, I shook my head
and grabbed her tightly.
‘Greystroke, the legend of Tarzan’ had just been released.
When I was a child my parents owned a video shop, a business model that is now almost extinct, but in the early eighties was just starting to flourish. Studios had ‘reps’ that used to go to the various stores to promote movies, and they used to go to a lot more effort than they do now. Often they would give us various goodies and promotional merchandise, a lot of which I was allowed to keep. Occasionally they would come dressed in costume, and this poem is a true story about one of those times.