A Momentary Escape

By Christopher Cooper Our napkin is drenched in popcorn oil. Snacking on one-upmenship while answering the trivia that flashing on the screen. I annoy you with a superior nudge as I sneak a sip of our large sticky syrup. Why are there three straws in our drink? I love the heat outside it is ninety making us wet as rain but in here long sleeves are never enough. The dimming lights part the curtains and your condescending enthusiasm triggers my acceptance. Alright, the center is just one more seat to the right. My humiliation doesn't end with a smile of false tenderness, a snickering sigh and the punctuation of a secret touch of unfaithfulness. Damn, there is a voyeuristic stranger two seats to the right, whose giggles are growing into an infectious laugh. He has me considering fourth degree assault. He is your anonymous lover? The flicker of the ending credits is the signal for our feet to rise. Another senseless adolescent movie that you enjoyed it explains the pandemonium in the crowd all designed to slow my hunt for vindication. You rub my arms and I take it as a sign that I am still the number one guy. Outside it is now ninety-six and you feel wetter. My love for the heat is paralyzing us. Written March 11th, 2002 © on Mar 11 2002 12:16 AM PST   10 • 0