The Contents of a film are subjective, surely

The movie was not real life
But as a smooth glass contained snake
I was inside.
Moving with the fake accents and actually scenery.
We was real.

A movie has a seat
Upon which the audience thrown
Quibbles, Indulgence
That everyone can sit upon.

A zoo only contains those
That it sees fit for show.
Wonders, in perspective.
Which side pays the most.

Does the enquiring eye
See a fleeting glimpse.
Does the sturdy Gaze
Fix the visitors in time?

If only, if only, if only
A dialogue of me and mind
And what they had in mind
I could discover a brand new treat.

We was not real.
We was made up.
We was nothing but hope.
And a little pepper and 'was' salt.

The End.