poetry when my hair is curly

Mid-Century

Tonight, we stand in front of a theatre,
Built in the era we tried to become.
And neither of us can remember
The name of the movie Forbidden Planet.
In this space, I know why we call
Each other by our full names.

Not even a McCarthian sense of self
Can make us forget that we are cracked
Like the McCoy on grandmother's floor.
Aware that if we had only paid
Attention when placing it on the shelf,
We wouldn't be picking up pieces.