I didn't remember we were
just acting
it was some averagely budgeted
Hollywood "blockbuster" with all the
old clichés
I was a prisoner of war
turned prostitute
turned assassin getting a
hard-on for revenge.
He was a hunter with lusty lips and a
big old scar, bits of squished together plasticine, over his
left eye.
It made him look like such a badass, with those
Hells Angels biker boots too.
He was beautiful
an angel in dirty khaki shorts
I thought it was just acting
He'd just killed an invisible bear on a
green screen
broken through the sugar glass of
my bedroom window and
peeled off his sweaty shirt
and I could see his skin
marred by what looked like
burn scars
my character flinched
I didn't
he reddened, commendably,
embarrassed about them
the blush was fake
the scars weren't
a phone went off and the director
yelled something
I just stared as my hunter faded and
my colleague stomped around like a baby
demanding a beer, Stella Artois,
and a strip of gum and
oh
right
and a phone, to call his wife
to say he couldn't pick up Tyler from
school today
I sat on the mattress
latex knife strapped to my thigh by
some flimsy string
the cameras rolled and
my hunter was back, doing that thing
when his eyes creased at the edges
and only one side of his mouth
smiled
I reeled off my lines like a
fax machine
empty words tumbling out of my
painted mouth
was it just acting?
When he sniggered and lunged forwards
to steal a kiss
was it just acting?
When we rolled around on the cheap
Styrofoam mattress
and I felt a piece of Lego digging into
my back
was that just acting too?
My hunter pulled back and I got to look
I ignored the shit peeling mess of a scar
the fake rings through his ears
my character said something straight
out of a porno and
looked away
but I gazed into his eyes
like a child at the stars
they were the green frayed edges of
marijuana leaves
or bananas still too ripe
my character gave a little whine
when he kissed her neck
I ducked and weaved
trying to see the burn scars
red welts, one over his naval
another two or three zigzagging over
his collarbone like
stitches
I forgot I was acting
when I tangled my fingers in his hair
the dishwater blonde my character
always fell for
but not me
and when I leant into him
breathed in the stink of fake tan and
cologne and spilt coffee
then under that the sharp tang of
lemon grass
pine needles
the things my hunter knew
CUT
CUT
FUCKING CUT
the boss came over
you could grow mushrooms under
that cloud
hovering over his head and eyes
he took me aside, any excuse to
squeeze my character's
tiny little waist
he said I didn't have her right
I needed to be more aloof
I should look to care less
I mustn't look so helpless
that wasn't Hilde
the prisoner of war
the whore
the vengeful sniper
it was too much of me
TAKE I DON'T KNOW IT MUST BE
12 BY NOW, LET'S GET A FUCKING
MOVE ON
my character teased the hunter for
his enthusiasm
I sat huddled inside my own
private theatre
he seemed distracted
thinking about how he'd get out of helping
Tyler with his history homework
or the first thing he'd say to his wife
what he'd have to buy her to get a
blowjob before the weekend's out
my character gave zero fucks about
all this
she didn't know he wasn't real
quite frankly she couldn't care less
anyway
so I stayed inside
watching
he smiled down at me
my hunter
eyes green as algae in the pool
scars glowing like dragon fire
I wish I could say that his
eyes made me think of
smoking pot and telly-tubbies
but we're in “Vietnam” and
my hunter resents
drugs and cartoons that
remind him of his
traumatic upbringing
I wish I could say that I admired
his scars
they didn't make me flinch like
my character did
he pretends to fuck me again
and I cling to the muscled back
grab his moonlit white ass
even though that's not in the script
I hope my hunter stays
perfumed by the
forest floor and
rotten leaves
and doesn't go back to the man who
loves his wife and son
and stinks of makeup
it's not just acting when I
raise my head and tell him
I love him
because that's me
talking to my hunter
not him
his actor fucks off
complaining of lack of
professionalism
Hilde fucks off
back to the drawing board for
recasting
those two were the
only actors here
and I stay behind
eyes dancing over the script
wondering if it's just acting
when I see my hunter again.