Casablanca, Last Showing

Grease on my shirt from the projector booth
Red pencil tucked behind your ear
Halfway through the love scene
The picture buckled, burned and disappeared
I killed the lamp, you found my hand
You said the subtitles were wrong for years
The hero never said goodbye
"On se revoit": we meet again

Out on the wet street, frame in my coat
You didn't cry, you said, "We build a smaller one"

Casablanca, last showing
They turned the big lights off for good
Casablanca, last showing
On se revoit, we said we would
Twelve chairs, a lamp, a painted door
Casablanca, one showing more

Sunday, three months on, the paint still wet
One rescued projector, twelve odd chairs
A kettle that we never turn off
Your chalkboard phrase above the stairs
You teach the kids how a sentence
Changes weight from tongue to tongue
I coax the stubborn motor
And the burnt frame hangs where we begun

At closing you turn the sign around
And write "Keep choosing me" in chalk

Casablanca, last showing
They turned the big lights off for good
Casablanca, last showing
On se revoit, we said we would
Twelve chairs, a lamp, a painted door
Casablanca, one showing more

A boy who came for the subtitles
Asked about the frame that burned
Before I found the words, he said
"It's the one you're still inside"
And left his coins upon the counter

Casablanca, last showing
They turned the big lights off for good
Casablanca, every Sunday
On se revoit, we said we would
Twelve chairs, a lamp, a painted door
Casablanca, one showing more

Chairs stacked, red pencil down
Casablanca, one showing more