Thursday, April 27, 2017

Drive in Theaters

The Lincoln Highway
was home to many,
as it should’ve been,
cars being its commerce.
But now they are gone.
No more Blue Dell, Greater Pittsburgh,
and Ardmore.
Instead it’s strip malls,
Walmarts, and Sunday flea markets.
What’s left is us,
those conceived in tailfinned
Chevys and DeSota’s.
The fogged windows of desire
and forgotten protection,
caught up in the rapture
of Bogart and Bacall,
the tin speaker
jangling on the glass,
the family behind,
flashing high beams,
having just released
their own hostaged children
from the deceitful trunk ploy,
Dad wishing he could’ve left them there.
And they all met
at the concession stand
because who could resist
talking popcorn boxes?
And they’d buy overpriced
and shriveled hot dogs
that spun on silver rollers.
And teenage girls would shiver
into their boyfriends letter jackets
and re-button first base.
The second feature held no more hold
than the first, as sodas spilled
and popcorn flew,
all in the backseat of
making me and you.

-- Declan Synott

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