Don't Drink Bees

In the night
illuminated windows
become drive-in movie screens
shuttered windows
a cable channel not subscribed to

Dramas played out for the passerby
Whose only admission price
Is braving the outside weather
and risking being named a Peeping Tom

As a child
I walked our neighborhood streets
in the snow
with my brother
to watch the late, late show
on the silent screen

Warmly lit interior shots
contrasting with our wintry night
mittened hands deep in pockets
longing for the warmth
we viewed through lighted windows

A warmth radiating
not from woodstoves and furnaces
But from the actors themselves
and I longed for a part
in their show