second in a canon of threes

The sequel is
a necessary intermediary,
between the business we need to
see buried and clips that
show the best of us.

Sometimes it’s high,
others a bust.

The originals vary;
archaic to sparing, but there’s always a
lust to their ideals.

Heart and zeal, concealed mastery,
whereas middle installments reel in
the face of spectacle.

This is us,
treading narrative surfaces,
winging central themes.

The end hasn’t come because
these days, everything comes in

(maybe fours, if they
divide the climax in half, or reboot
as pure trash).

We’ll never get a carbon
copy of what’s

just a series of victory laps we’ll have
to accept
as canon.


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