It was a sunny day when you passed the movie theatre. The marquee promised something you thought you wanted to see, to feel. 

You bought your ticket, a ticket to ride to the other side. Forgoing daylight you entered the cave of make-believe. You picked a worn red plush seat, center back.

Others milled and settled until the lights dimmed, encasing you in a womb-like sanctuary, preparing you for the mental trip to a realm of pleasure. 

Booming orchestral sounds warped your internal speed, rewrapped your external contours, you gave yourself up and over to this known safety zone. Like a baby to a mother’s tit, your peptides blazed.

Automatically you relaxed, you reclined, stretched out your legs, crossing them at the ankle. 

Scenes flicked with alluring faces enlarged beyond life, you read thoughts in oversized eyes, you saw tenderness and fears and doubts.

Then one particular mouth captivated you, it was curved and full and sensual, it seemed to speak directly to you. Very slightly you leaned forward, wishing to touch.

Unknowingly you shifted on your plush seat, fully transported by the images and sounds. 

Your heart was pierced, senses awakened, you floated.

Shockingly, far too soon it was over. Like a death. Harsh lights blinded you and the shabby theater returned around you.

People shuffled about, it was time to leave. You didn’t want to. You wanted to burrow back. 

Except you couldn’t. It was just a movie, right?

In a disconsolate daze you trod slowly toward the exit, mentally still in-between worlds, stalling in the hopes of slipping down some rabbit hole. 

Outside the sun shone brightly. Just before your mood could rebalance you looked directly into the eyes of a face you knew. A face you instantly loved. You recognized that mouth. 

image bySerb painter Miroslav Čule check him out here:

for more Christina Oxenberg please visit: amazon.com