Title In Search Of A Poem (Poetry)

Words straggle in a vague untidy line
like a cinema queue caught in winter rain
winding round the block as though uncertain
even of the name of the film that’s advertised.

Every so often another one joins as though
this lengthening of purpose is enough
simply of itself — the random tacking-on suggests
waiting is part of the process. More or less inevitable ...

There’s a little jostling for position from a phrase
that thinks itself above the hoi poloi —
pushes in and finds the mood has changed.
No second feature. Popcorn is taboo.

Some drift away. Night edits them
as kindly as it can. Words inch along
memory jingles change in some deep pocket
conjures fleapit visions of the two-and-nines.

The constant rain soaks through the poster
it starts to peel and sag — become unintelligible
the fizzy dreams of the Kia-Ora girl melting
orange neon in the technicolour margins of the page.

Words thin and huddle. Loop and lose their places.
The ‘FULL HOUSE’ sign illuminates — no room
for trailers to tease imagination. The Box Office shuts.
Lights flicker off. No pictures come ...