The soldier felt guilt in his chest, irradiating from his heart to his extremities. His fingertips were icy cold. The trigger of the rifle was invitingly warm.

“Bitte,” the guard pleaded, drifting to his knees and intertwining his fingers. The guard’s hands, clasped so tightly that a purplish hue underscored his tan, peach skin, reminding the soldier of the last meal he had before coming overseas – blueberry pie.

Blueberry pie from the little diner up the road from his father’s farm. They let the Negroes cook there, bringing along their soul food, and he always thought that’s why the pie tasted so good. He looked at the dead little Jewish boy and wondered if he would’ve liked the blueberry pie.

“Probably not,” he quipped to himself as he drifted away into a balmy spring day. There was a river, and the little boy was playing there with his friends. The soldier walks up with the pie in his hands, warm steam still flowing from the vents.

“Do jewish kids eat blueberry pie?” He asks, placing the pie at the edge of the river.

Confused faces rise up, staring him dead in his eye. The little boy climbs out of the river, soaking wet and sticks his dripping hand right into the pie and pulls out a mass of hot pie shell and blueberry filling.

“Of course we do,” he says, opening his mouth as wide as he could and shoveling the pie in. A purple grin splits the boy’s face open from ear to ear. “We’re kids.”

Now he’s back to the camp. Back to the stink of death. Back to the rotten smell of man’s ambition. Back to the warm trigger against his freezing finger.

When he pulled the trigger, the loudness of the gunshot caused his ears to ring.

He wondered about his own death. Wondering if on the day he died, would his ears still be ringing?

One of the things I try to do when writing a story is incorporate elements of my favorite songs, quotes, paintings, etc. into the story. In this case, after realizing that “Pop Art Blue” was a color, I titled my short screenplay “Pop Art Blue” in homage to this song.

The second draft is almost done and will be posted soon. In the meantime, enjoy Zero 7’s “Pop Art Blue,” from the most unique album I’ve ever heard, “Yeah Ghost.”

Port City Poetry Vol. 1 is the first in a series of mini-documentaries by filmmaker Christopher J. Pendergraft and poet Kevin Dublin, chronicling the proliferation and evolution of poetry in Wilmington, NC.

Vol. 1 features interviews from Ana Ribeiro - poet, reporter and manager of the Port City Poets blog, and poet Jeffrey “Just Jeff” Wyatt on their personal definition of poetry and where poetry is headed.

Also featured in Vol. 1 are highlights from Oct. 24th’s “Soul Slam” @ Bottega Art & Wine.

My commentary on the experience coming soon.

This month is “In the Midlife Zone,” by SHINE.

The Midnight Sun by Kevin Dublin and Ana Ribeiro

The whole moon hanging high
I saw you at the bar, at midnight
Sitting, holding, sipping with your head tilted to the side

You averted your glance
But I followed your eyes
And landed on another bottle of wine
And for a second I died, because we weren’t together

I remembered the same scene years ago
And it led to a route of despair
When I thought of your midnight sun
Above summer skies and summer wind

In the confines of your hair
Where I imagine my hand nestle your cheek
The moment before you hit the road
Carrying all the worries of the world
And throwing them all back to me

Everything exists inside you
And inside me all is chaos
I want to bathe in your midnight sun
And forget that you’re not the one
And forget that I’ll always remember

And pretend this is the first time we met
And live in this infinite moment
Letting you light up the dark hour you caused
I could risk, I should–

No, perhaps I should remain–
And waste away any chance at happiness
Afraid of burning in your midnight sun

Written By: Kevin Dublin and Ana Ribeiro
Directed By: Christopher J. Pendergraft
Cinematographer & Editor: Christopher J. Pendergraft
Narrated By: Kevin Dublin

Cast
Lost Lover: Kevin Dublin
Beautiful Girl: Anna Hedgecock

Music
“Blue Feather” by Kevin McLeod

Special Thanks
Bottega Art & Wine