After the Movie

After the Movie

The theater breaks 
in the coruscant light,

the afterglow rupturing 
in a dozen iPhones 

pulsing with the hard, brief
texts of delayed conversations—

as a dropped ticket
curls under the plush seats

breathing out
their human forms.

A woman tears  
her ticket to a point.

Another scrolls 
the blinking face of her phone.

A wrapper crackles
in the thinning air.

The empty seat’s shadow
stays where it falls.