12 X 12 at the Drive in (Flashback Poem)

Sunday at the drive in

They’re screening the Maltese Falcon

We snuck snacks in

So we didn’t have to pay those inflated prices

I break out the lawn chairs and ghetto blaster

Tune the radio into the close circuit broadcast

Fireflies swarm our presence

I caught three at once in my hand

I unclasp my hand and they sit ever so comfortable

I count to eleven Mississippi and they take off

I think about how this was Bogies first masterpiece but he was a master before that

The way he wears the fedora

 The way he tips the hat

Ever so confident with everything he says

Pillow talk when he’s not even in bed

He tells Sam to “play it again”

I can’t help but take your hand

With the other I grab a handful of Sourpatch kids

Midnight dreams can’t compare to this

 

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