A Genre Piece

Short poem I wrote.

Drinking pop while sitting up on the roof.
Bright lights in your eyes and a cold wind blowing
On the roof of the Movie House. Down below,
People huddled in line and paying for their tickets
To see the Monster Movie. You look at my face and
Wipe the tears from my eyes as you break my heart,
While a film projector whirls and wheels right under us
And Frankenstein is brought to life in the room below.