April poem no. 3

As promised here's poem no. 3 for April poetry month. I wrote this one years ago to express my love of movies. And, it's still applicable. I turn to movies for diversion or escape over and over again. Unfortunately, I can't escape much longer than the length of the movie.

Black and White Dreams

I feel like snuggling in,
feet up on the coffee table
watching whatever inanity
the tube spews out
to attract me. Like the dashing
Paul Henreid lighting two cigarettes
as his eyes smolder in their glow,
Lauren Bacall flipping her hair
off her face
as she gives Humphrey
the come to momma look

There was a world one could live in,
black and white and out of focus,
where one could get lost in dreams.
We’d sing, we’d shout,
we’d kiss and do the Continental
down the wide boulevards of Rio.

All our endings would be happy
as the credits roll
over our bodies
locked in a smoky embrace.