Drive-In
Beyond the screen, above the
Chipped, weathered plywood, the moon
Was a yellow eye, strung from
A cosmic nail to show just
Enough of the mountain to
Make one think of a sleeping
Mythical bear, and as your
Car moved from the back of the
Lot across the gravel humps
Toward the movie screen, the
Mountain rose and fell and the
Moon seemed to swing side to side.
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Drive-in 3
The lot held 185 cars,
And on a summer Friday
Or Saturday you had best
Get there early. The exit
Had a metal spike strip,
The first of its kind in the area,
And sometimes into the feature,
You could hear the pop and
Whoosh of air as some punk
Tried to sneak his Impala
Past the lit up gold fish pool
And the ticket booth.
The movies didn’t matter
That much, Robert Mitchem
Or Steve McQueen, Ann
Margaret or Candice Bergen,
Heads or tails, you call it;
Every story was big as the night.
deuce coupe 