Drive-in

Last night, while the rest of you were snug in your beds, Powell and I drove to Burlington, Vermont to pick up her roommate from the airport (despite my troubles at the Canadian border).

Ours was the only car on the dark highway through northern Vermont. Row speculated that we would soon be set upon by a serial killer with an axe. I was more concerned about us being caught in the ideal conditions for an alien abduction. The moon was fat and beautiful, peeking through cotton candy clouds.

Somewhere past St-Albans, Powell cries out, alarmed, "What's that, Palanca?"

Turns out it was a drive-in screen rising on the right side. Angelina's lips, fat and beautiful, peeking through clouds of trees.

I haven't been to a drive-in since I was a kid. We went to see For Your Eyes Only. I remember being entranced by the blacked-out female bodies swimming across a screen of colours.

I want to go to the drive-in... who's in?