Dime Movies at the Shady Theater

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.