Sitting on slithering celluloid seaweed
Where blue sand drifted against the skeletons in the box office
A hungry woman had bitten into the mirrored wall behind the bar
I felt the strands of my inner parts tighten like the strings of a guitar being tuned
I watched you swimming in the seas of cinema history as its tides washed over you in silent rage.
The projectionists flesh dripped like ice cream out of her straight jacket
Like a stream of urine into the shadows that were licking lollipops in the orchestra pit
I felt I only knew what you were imagining if you sat all alone
It was like being in a dream full of punctuation marks that filled a church collection box
As cheap stardust sprinkled down from the sky mobbed by the population of Whitechapel who emerged like blue moths from the popcorn.
I tried to hear you laugh but only heard you think
Your thoughts like little blue gnomes flung their hats into the air as the film took off into secret flight
Then they sang the new tragic measure found in our sleep song symphony
How you loved to hear the rattle of my reptile teeth?
How you knew the cinema as a purple silk torture chamber?
Did I become that bluebird as the lights faded?
As your body folded out from cinema seat and produced a scream
I saw the whole film as the fabric of a feather light condom
And there in your ear an eye seemed to watch me