Old Habits

You and me at a matinee.

It's hot outside and bright.

The theater is dark.

At two-thirty on a Tuesday

most of the seats are empty;

occasional strangers separated

by rows of shadows.

We left work early

to see a movie. Popcorn.

Cokes and chocolate.

Large faces, larger sound,

covers us up with story.

We'll squint into the parking lot

afterward, searching for our car.

And always, it feels like

it should be nighttime,

Though we haven't been

to an evening show in years.