when it comes to being
out of our depth,
the harder-
up we get, the less
help we'll accept?
It's like: for over half
of the film, we've been
hanging from the cliff,
fingers growing
gradually wetter
with sweat;
but instead
of either keeping
our strength conserved
or clamoring
loud as we can
for a savior,
we'd rather flail
our legs until
our grip has collapsed,
then curse the long-
gone villain to our
very last breath.
