Daddy Fucked My Ass At The Drive-In Movie

The drive-in was a relic from another decade, a giant screen glowing under the stars, speakers crackling on rolled-down windows. My father Arthur parked his vintage Mustang in the back row. We shared a blanket and a bucket of popcorn. The film was a classic, but I couldnt tell you a single scene. His arm was around me, his hand finding its way under the cover. By the time the credits rolled, I had seen a different kind of show.