Sonnets with Slant Rhymes IV: Moony Redux

I wish your care for me were as unstopped
As this, your taste in movies seems to be,
Though Harold Lloyd forever on the clock
Asks of you only sometimes to be seen.
It’s funny when the salt builds on my lens,
Diffusion filters everything I see
And makes the light so eloquently bent
Like Haskell Wexler in the seventies.
If you saw through these eyes you might again
Take up the cause, pick up the work and call
Me back — rewrite, reshoot the picture’s end.
But maybe there’s no writing it at all:
   You’ll look across the fence at where you’ve been
   And find my love is Technicolor green.

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