I thought about bruising death
a lot this after afternoon
which usually happens
when I am sitting in a movie theater
just before the trailers begin.
I spell theater theater, not theatre,
because oh my god, they must've made
us read so many books
and we found out they could not,
and it reminds me of my long hair.
I saw the picket line in front
of the Burger King, but I didn't care,
because I have more things to worry about
in the third row before
I get up and move to the fifth row.
Movies feel me and I sneak beers in by myself,
but I fall in love with the feeling of forever,
put me on sale and include my knees please,
rainy knees and stupid faces, second days,
second jobs, stressed as hell, but don't give a shit.
I convince myself that last action heroes
aren't as scared as me of dying, but thrilled with thriving,
where we book books maybe tomorrow,
but I feel left out by the Tuesday wounds,
skin and flying fires of my every day, every night.