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Saturday Morning Matinee
On a clear Saturday morning
Weather is a crisp 64 degrees
The pale blue sky looks
Down upon me through my sunroof
Driving, cruising
Window cracked, the breeze whispering in my ear
The radio station in a stagnate position
I don't even listen
Just listen to my thoughts
A couple of memories that I've brought
Getting closer to the theater
Have to catch those trailers
Rushing in like I have a party of twelve
So deep into my seat I want to delve
Last one on the left... thank you
Check the ticket to make sure
As I glide through this dim carpet corridor
I walk in and find my seat at the end
Soon into the sea Of strangers
I soon will blend
The lights soon descend, this world of previews I'm in
Pupils become wider as the movie begins
To right it seems to be an empty space
Like part of my ritual suddenly had erased
Warmth seems to have escaped
From the chair next to me, that vacant place
This is no dream state yes I'm awake
This is a realization no kind of epiphany
Absent from my side, my matinee partner Tiffany.
Many will think this is dramatic, oh what's the fuss?
But the Saturday matinee's belonged to us.
Saturday mornings at that particular theater is ours,
The right seat next to me is retired baby.
Poet of Pain © 2008
For Tiff.
