At The Charles Theater Poem by Allen Blue

The evening opens on our moon, crisply folding
Into the nighttime panoramic of starry stars
Staring at the old man marquee blissfully exposing himself
To the passersby happening by with echoes
Along the cobbled backs of downtown streets
Eroding under the persistent autumn bluster.

Just outside the glass entrance yawn,
On bricks mortared before the papers yellowed,
Hoarsely fraying poster exclamations fade like the pistol
Report now long downstream from a running mind…

Inside, under bulbs the size of my fist that burn,
Leaning on walls, men with mustaches that curl
Laugh with red-lipped girls in pin-up poses
Over erudite jokes that go well with wine.

And on the screen, in black and white,
A gorilla hangs from the moon
While vampires rise through the celluloid scratches.
An audience sits so many times through so many plots
They can't help but see the present merely imitating in color.

But, tonight is different and with that
A final bow and cue to pull the curtain,
Drop the lever to hang the lights,
And release the reels to gallop West!
The projector groans and stutters through the first few frames,
Before I can see you through the floating dust and sepia mist
Walking towards me with tentative steps as we fade to black.