balcony.

us kissing in the darkness of a theater
slipping from the fiction playing in front of us,
sliding into the reality of the heat
that the absence of light was giving us
as Hannibal Lecter's voice lost its chill
as the violence on screen meant nothing
and vanished in the thunder of blood
running through us
running us through
then
we left
before the credits went and told
how everything was an illusion,
and before the darkness revealed.

we left
and fled into our reality
spontaneous and true
physical and warm.