Thelma, Louise and me

i watched Thelma & Louise two nights ago and felt a mix of joy and embarrassment with the arrival of the tears. my discomfiture wasn't due to the crying per se, but rather some (false) notion that my familiarity with the medium should render me invulnerable to the Romanticism and blatant sentimentality of the final scene -

but it didn't.

(herein lies the joy.)

the object of my gaze has shifted.

i used to focus on that final still:

the Thunderbird held midair by a snapshot,
the women cradled for an eternity over the canyon
in the moment before they die.

but this time:

the moments before they fall,
they sit in the car, knowing it is over.
it is not the kiss, it is not the "keep going."

the moment of revelation,

one moment is all there is.