The Grip

They all jumped up
before the screen even went black.
They put on their coats and
kicked their popcorn
as they scrambled out of the aisles
as quickly and clumsily as if they were under attack.
They filed out of the aisles
and swarmed towards the EXIT sign
like moths towards a light bulb.
They jammed themselves in the too-narrow doorway,
the pressure building up
like a human volcano,
erupting into the foyer
and spilling out into the street.
There is no-one left,
not a single seat;
and my name hasn't even crawled up the screen.