He sat, right leg flung over the
left,
in the back row of the dark
dimly lit theater. Moans and
grunts
filtered through the darkness
from crackly
speakers, the haze of cigarette
smoke and
bleary eyes. The cherry burned
red hot as his intake of breath
drew the warm smoke into thick
lungs,
the charred smell tasted like
pain;
the exhale clouded his vision of
oiled skin
and tangled hair on the screen
and the top of
a head bobbing up and down
two rows up and to his right. His
jeans and button down
shirt were patched with sweat as
the humid air swirled to
mix with the smoke and musk. The
cigarette dropped
to the floor as he reached back
to scratch,
pulling a white feather from its
place amongst
the scars from clipped wings.