in the mouth of a shadow puppet 

when i write my mouth
opens as big as the sky 
& then i'm just the goldfish
we won at my fifth grade
carnival by throwing ping pong
balls into little jars--
i push my face against
the glass until it turns
into a movie screen--
we're at the theater
in my home town-- the one
who still has a big red curtain
that opens when the picture begins--
i fall as droplets of water
always trickling from the ceiling
& plopping onto the heads of 
teenagers on first dates--
i fall underneath the dilapidated
seats next to popcorn & 
jewel-bare ring-pops 
& the back of an earring 
that a girl with red hair &
short finger nails will 
always wonder about--
the movie ends & i watch myself
leave on a date with 
my best friend--
we're both gay now but
back then it was nice
to share shoulders & walks 
home from school--
the screen goes dark & 
i crawl out from under the
seat with the whole theater
to myself--
i stretch out my arms &
tell the ghosts to 
come out from behind the
screen--
all the girls on first 
dates & 
dads taking their
sons to see war movies &
mothers watching computer
animated dogs
even though it makes then
feel squeamish--
the blink wildly & stagger
about the room in the dark-- 
fumbling for their seats
again--
i steal the moon to
use as a projector because
theaters are all digital now--
screen white-- i crouch low
in the little technical room 
& my fingers roar in shadow 
puppets--
i tell stories about dragons
& arms that turn into snakes--
fingers that fly away from
you & boys who kiss the moon--
the ghosts clap & i bow
as a shadow--
in the morning 
they hide back behind the curtains
& i walk out the front door
of the theater after
taking a box of raisinettes
from behind the snack counter--
i eat a handful & open
my mouth again 
wide as the sun-- i burn
my tongue like this on
hot planets & my own
tall tall
shadow