Moving Pictures

by Jim Farfaglia

Moving Pictures

 

Nowadays we slip in a DVD

and watch stories on a small screen,

hoping they’ll dazzle us –

but they’ll never match the movies we saw

at the State and Avon Theatres.

 

The larger-than-life epics played at the State,

their grandness filling our imaginations;

while the Avon offered those cowboy serials,

such cliffhanging excitement

riding into town each week.

 

Matinees were 10 cents for kids,

60 cents for us teenagers,

and with the girls escorted by bow-tied ushers

and the boys following behind carrying popcorn,

we found the way to our favorite seats.

 

Then we’d relax back, awaiting that dream world;

the chandeliers hanging above us

like distant stars to reach for,

the curtains drawing open

like the beginning of a new life…

 

On the way home we’d stop for ice cream,

maybe a dance near the jukebox,

and the telling and retelling of our favorite scenes.

We were back in small-town Fulton, yes,

but with our dreams, it seemed, a bit closer.

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