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Ticket

Ticket

projector’s rolling

in a dark room

full of folks

with half a stub

good for a 2-hour trip

far from phones ringing

voices with nothing to say

maybe that’s why movies are magic

a poor man’s portal

to all the lives he’d like to live

the explorer in him

craves ancient ruins

the gentleman in him

“shaken but not stirred”

the musician in him

a steel guitar

the king in him

destroys and conquers

the romantic in him

takes a knee

and the boy in him

well, he’s up that tree

TL

Published inTamiko Lowery