Matinee

i should've kissed you in the picturehouse,
when our feet were up on the seats in front,
and you laughed at my shoes.

the film, the four-hour epic,
hadn't yet started. lights on,
the velvet curtains still drawn.

your hand patiently perched
near mine,
and we stared straight ahead.

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Lights are on…

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who moved the scissors?