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Click hereWe sat along the boulevard
Laughed in tepid pools of light
That brittle little cocktail laugh
So erotic but polite
We would cock our heads and whisper
Funny stories dipped in spite
You were starlet in our cinema
Your skirt so black and tight
I was sure that I might have you
That the plot should turn out right
But our film was made of nitrate
It was grainy black and white
As the lamp got overheated
I watched us flicker then ignite
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 35,000 poems.
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