Just like in the movies

The camera tracks you as you thread

Your way through foot traffic

To a restaurant entrance

And go in and spot the man

In the bulky brown coat and fedora

Gun at his elbow

.

Cut to a closeup of the man’s face

He is kindly and grizzled

And old enough to be your dad

.

He is exactly old enough to be your dad

Because he is your dad

And you two are following a script

Co-written by the two of you

To show your mom on her birthday

.

You tried to make it Hitchcockean

Because Mom is a Hitchcock fan

And so the gun is a Maguffin

And the script is laced with doom words

Like “fatal” and “enigmatic”

.

The two of you discuss an evil woman

Whose modus operandi is death by kindness

Who is a nefarious genius who must be…

Eliminated? Stopped? Done away with?

.

“The trouble is, I love her,” says the man

“God help me, I love her too,” says the girl

And they break character

Turn to face the rented cinematic drone

And say, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!”

.

It’s exactly like the movies

Because it is a movie

An indie done on a shoestring

And Mom’s going to love it