Some Cities Die

What did you do before
The world got so automatic?
I was a film projectionist:
Comfortable and alone
In my world of flickering light-
Heaven in shades of blue.
Sometimes-though the old world
Has passed away-I still feel
Prompted to change reels
Without explanation
I know it sounds crazy,
But every scene change of real life
Has a tiny cigarette burn
In the corner
Begging me to change things
Over and over
Until it ends.
Now, I never act on this.
At least I haven't yet.
But there is only so much
You can ignore
Before you get called back
To the changing shades
Of blue light
In an empty theater.