I’m home alone on Friday night,
wrapped in layers for warmth,
a Godzilla movie on the big screen,

which, incidentally, is no longer
referred to as a big screen
by anyone but me.

There is a comfortable limit
to the size of a TV before it becomes 
tedious and cumbersome to watch,

head jerking side to side
like a spectator at a tennis match,
struggling to follow the furry green ball.

Or a warm house cat tracking a squirrel
from the kitchen window as it collects 
acorns outside in the chilly fall air 

Tonight though, it only seems appropriate
to be watching city-sized monsters
fight to the death on a screen the size of Tokyo.