you are here
with me
in theaters,
watching old films,
looking past
the close ups
of pretty actresses,
searching for
cigarette burns.
some sort of warning,
to see the story
is close to ending,
or the reels are
just changing.
pictures wont stop flickering
and i wonder who you're
pretending to be
now.
but i'm afraid,
alone, in the dark
i don't have
the patience, to wait
for the curtains or the credits
so i'll clammer my way
down to the exits
and continue
to pester the quiet projectionist.