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Spadina Literary Review  —  edition 3 page 02

verse

at the movies

by Chris Bailey

a kind smile
lovely like the sun would be
on a rainy afternoon such as this,
in a black dress
form fitting and seductive
despite being only in the company
of children.

a discussion of snacks,
the weather,
the different movies we are seeing,
not of your eyes (whose
colour I can’t recall
due to being lost in the rest of you),
and not of your voice
or the lack of rings on our fingers
nor the absence of even a tan line
to murmur that rings once were there.

a kind smile
in a black dress
with lips that
would have tasted of chocolate
of candy
of life.

a smile that said
“hello,” that screamed
“talk to me”
on lips that whispered
“i want you”
that yearned
for just one soft kiss
in the dimmed lights
of the show hall,
but didn’t.

a dress that said
“look at me”
that requested
to be touched,
begged to be gently slid off
as your body is caressed
in the soft lights
reflected off the
silver screen,
but didn’t.

our conversation ended, as all good things must.
you took your candy coated lips,
your perfect black dress
that danced,
swayed with each step,
hypnotizing
those whose gazes it ensnared,
your auburn hair
that I know smelled of
a home forgotten
and your boys, and
you walked
out
of my life.

yes
we went to our
separate films
separate theatres
separate worlds
you you took that dress
and walked out of my life
for good.

my film was great, though
it didn’t end as
it should have.
i suppose they never do.
i hope yours was enjoyable.