Small town theatre
thick fur huskies
ice blue eyes
casually
tied up at the door
Narrow room with three hundred
seats on a slanting floor
facing a stage
the screen is hidden behind
a long blue curtain
rock music blares
from theatre speakers
while friends and neighbours
gather and take their seats
shouting and laughing
to be heard over the music
young gaggles of girls
run up and down the aisles
excitedly skip and twirl laughing
across the stage
back and forth dancing
doing cartwheels
or clowny fragments
of ballet
everyone is dressed casual
in many light layers
now in the warm theatre
unzipped, unbuttoned,
velcro loop and hook
peeled back like layers
of onion or bark of birch
northerners continue to pour
into the room
they all look happy
uninhibited and free
each one undoing his outer layers
of clothes as he walks joyfully
up to a friend or relative.
There is no difference of class
here, as anywhere in the far north
the millionaire and his wife
snuggle down in seats
beside the welfare mom
and her kids,
the European with the
quieter and shy native
aboriginals, displaced Americans
British, Australians,
and New Zealanders
They’ve all come to see a movie
this one about themselves
in part using their dogs
cabins and friends as a set
even the mountain flanks
shoulders and peaks
will be full of memories
and adventures
the movie is called “Eight Below”
practically tee-shirt weather,
you can tend the dogs in your pajammas
for five minutes easy at eight below
outside it is twenty below
the curtain rises
the music ends
the light dims
snuggle warm in your seats
the movie begins.
by c van gorkom
