Answering the Ad


State Theater
Minneapolis, circa…

Once had been vaudeville showplace.
D.W. had staged a blizzard there.
Opened the back doors behind the stage.
Let it blow in.

The owner
would have drawn birds
as to a winter feeder.
Plaid suit jacket.
Greased back uncut male-pattern balding.
Greasy mustache.
Greasy attitude.

He had a thing for the candy girl –
she wasn’t buying.

Walk through subterranean catacomb
past dressing rooms
filled with moldering treasure:
Onto the stage to open curtain.
Up to the projection room
to learn the tells.
Back again to close after credits.

Sci-fi flick
begets forgettable Western
degenerates to Massage Parlor something.

Into owner’s lair
interrupting abortive attempt at slap and tickle
offering up my twenty-minute notice.

I learned how easy it is to exchange
one mistake job for another.


dVerse – Poets Pub    Poetics: Even Monkeys Fall from Trees
CC has us fessing up to a mistake (ours or another’s) and how it all ended up golden (my paraphrase).  Come join us and spill the dirt; you never know what will take root.


19 thoughts on “Answering the Ad

  1. Well, this poem tells of numerous blunders. You ‘failed’ to reveal the circa of the story ;), the snow being let in through the doors (heard about that!), the owner IS a mistake (!), the neglected treasures of the old theater days, the bad movies… I think the best part was your quick exit! Heaven’s to Mergatroid, you stayed too long! Love this story, Charley!

    Liked by 1 person

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