At the Matinee

At the matinee at one
in the afternoon on a bright,
open day means a number

of things. The need to wrap-
up in a blanket, a haven from
the world we struggle in.

The breeze spins lightly
through the vast parking lot.
The sun requires sunglasses

to find your way to the glass doors,
artificial light, buttery popcorn aroma,
red carpets, bored employees,

canned music reverie, solace.
We all sit far apart and watch
distant, chill London gloom

sooth us with detachment.

Published by William Cowan

I'm from the East Coast, have lived in SoCal and now Northern California for some years. I've been writing quite awhile, published in 1992 in a literary quarterly: "Suspicious Humanist," vol. 2, #2, (20 pages.) Best job: fm on air personality on a now defunct station, "Evening Eclectic" music show, and a weekly poetry reading show. I played jazz and free/improv I enjoyed. Read Wallace Stevens, John Ashbery, Kenneth Koch, etc. and commented on the poems. I have read once at a local coffee house. Love the Bay Area, wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I am going to appear in an east coast anthology of best new poets of 2010 by the end of the year, published in Pennsylvania. I'm reading once a month at a brewpub in Marin with a group of fellow poets. We read to each other our work, and personal favorite poems of authors we enjoy. It is a pleasure to share with a community of fellow enthusiasts.

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