Seeing Shrek at the Drive-In During a Pandemic
by Betsy Mars
Ogres are like onions, and I am too,
taking off the outer skin for a couple of hours
to be close to kin. I peel my gloves off
after the ticket taker hands me a menu
for the snack bar, edge away as far as I can
from the van they wave me next to
which is spilling laughing children. The dark descends.
Shrek slouches before a rising moon, Donkey nearby.
I sigh in recognition, alone in the swamp
heat of my enclosed car, shutting out
the unmasked. In the car to my right
my daughter behind glass, windows up.
We communicate by phone and gesture,
with thumbs up and heads bobbing
to the soundtrack of her childhood.
I am trying to atone, for all my layers –
the rawness, the cutting, the weeping –
of the onion, the irritants which sear.
In the castle a dragon slumbers,
ready to fire up its scorching breath.
At night I assume my true form, hope
that I might be loved anyway;
by light of day I spin candy floss from spider webs,
balloon whatever frogs come my way.
Previously published in Sky Island Journal
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: The pandemic was/is a difficult period to endure in many ways and going to the drive-in seemed like it would hark back to more carefree times, though, given the anxiety of the times, it was fraught with its own difficulties. Shrek was, in many ways, the most apt movie to see at such a time, given that this virus was also a scary unknown, full of fearsome qualities. The memory of the evening is bittersweet but really one of the happier times I recall from this period. Being near my daughter and her boyfriend and having a respite when we could immerse ourselves in a beloved film and soundtrack was a real mercy. PHOTO: The author with her Fiona mask.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Betsy Mars is a prize-winning poet, a photographer, an editor at Gyroscope Review, and cat wrangler. Her poetry has recently appeared or is upcoming in ONE ART, Sheila-Na-Gig, and Rat’s Ass Review, among others. In 2021, Betsy’s poems were nominated for Best of the Net as well as the Pushcart Prize. Her photos have appeared in RATTLE’s Ekphrastic Challenge, Redheaded Stepchild, and Spank the Carp. Her chapbook, In the Muddle of the Night, was co-authored with Alan Walowitz.
Silver Birch Press 
Like this very much, Betsy. I am there with you.
Thank you, Rose Mary! I am so glad you came along with me.
Calling this my favorite pandemic poem, doesn’t do justice to how much I love it.
Sweet! And you haven’t even seen Shrek! We need to remedy that. Seriously, though, I very much appreciate your comment. It’s a poem that means so much to me so I am grateful you love it.
Wow! Very creative.
Thank you so much, Lindsey!
Bravo, Betsy! What a great poem–and great memory from a hard time.
Thank you, Yvonne! It was a bit surreal but also very much needed, very memorable.
All the urge to connect here , even as we remain separate…that need to connect perhaps the best lesson of the pandemic.
Thank you, Mary – yes, it went in cycles for me: intense longing for touch, connection -> numbness, resignation -> longing and gratitude for connection. I appreciate your comment, as always.