We gather, each
one step from the enormous tommorows that will
spin us miles and worlds away into
opposite ends
of our new universe
when we will all step carefully
into the aged world until we
too
are old
and some of us will forget
the last picture show in town
but all of us come.

We teeter on the precipice of
revolutions of identity
as the big screen drive in
plays black and white images
from our past.
None of us want to watch, really
as our claims to innocence slip away
like the flickers
into the night
and some of us slip sips
from flasks
we snuck in,
though we can never go back.

In years some of us will cry
when remembering this
and even now
while the credits begin to roll
over us
there's a few in the back
crying for
what we've lost.