Walking to the Cineplex

On these city streets you can't hear
the sidewalks echo the clickity-clack
of our anxious feet. They're submerged
drowning in the noise of passing cars,
prattling pedestrians, the sounds of them
walking, strutting, shuffling–-the rub of
cloth against cloth.

The windows of each establishment
capture us like carnival mirrors--
See my mushroom head! Look!
A tire hangs about your chin.
I could drive into that grin on the road
you paved with hearty giggles.

The multi-plex greets us with neon "Hellos"
we flock to like summer bugs, mesmerized.
Yet, from the twinkle in your eyes I sense
we finally discovered Oz.