As a child in a movie theater
The projectionist would stream light
Through the smoke and dark
Twitching the thin beams like fingers
Nervously tapping a chair’s arm

I would tilt back, watch the strands
Above my head dance across the room
Tracing with light a story upon the screen

I would try to catch the coordination
Between the light’s slight shift
With what was happening on the screen
Searching through the dark for the cause
Of the events unfolding around us
As we sat transfixed, waiting.

(Note: smoking was allowed in theaters when I was a child)

(August 2011)