I like taking smoke breaks during movies, to let the plot catch up with me.
Bullshit with the usher, in every storied city.
Smoke rings around the rosy, pockets drawn out.
I know how to clean the soda stains but how to get the Dawn out?

How to dredge the water?
Or to look professional.
Shimmy, sit with your coat sitting next to you
in this, your confessional.

Faceless projectionist sits, still treads his teenage time
and wonders why he don't feel enlightened, when he does so much for strangers.

When he does so much for others.
And they recieve his pardon.
For him they sit there motionless, like getting stitched.

When the crowd gets near enough the young man notices the change
from large eyes all calm in darkness to squinty ones which can't find shade.

I value sight and sound more than the rest of me
and I tried to blindly find my car, keeping my eyes squeezed
together tight hoping my night was planned so carefully
so many years ago keeping up with every choice that I've made free.