the coolest guy in the western hemisphere

i turned from the credits & the lobby

in perfect yellows & reds, the usher

boxed into the doorway at the end

of a hall

and they looked like another projection

on a smaller screen by a less subtle cinematographer

i left the theatre, recalibrating to this world

and it surprised me

the air was humid and delicious

i hadn't expected sunlight

& it was blue & gray

& the neon and the fumes & my half-open eyes

& it felt like visiting the big city when i was a kid,

like taking a trip to reality, like living in the movies

i took out my phone & stood in a dearskin jacket

& wondered if looked cool like javier bardem

by the curb & everyone was out

& a woman tapped on my shoulder

i had seen her in the lobby

she was wearing quilted blankets

& i took the phone from my ear & looked at her

"i need food.  do you know what that is?"

i wanted to hear the message.  i pinched 2 quarters

and drew them from my jeans change pocket

"that ain't food."

i saw her dustdrag the quilts
& i pressed 1 to replay the message
i called someone else & said i wanted to walk
but i sat on a bench & then a concrete block
saw a torn bag of drained liquor bottles
then it was night & i bought groceries