The Purist
Lewd
chuckling behind me
paused
my entrance for
a glance
at a frumpy
dog-faced woman
who knew the value
of a ticket.
"Film Commission,"
said she
to usher number three
and flashed
a red pass
as she pushed
ahead
of others who waited
for the skinny
flick.
Plopping
into her seat
she snickered
to her
companion
about the fun
in store.
This article originally appeared in print under the headline "The Purist."
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