Movie Night

I watched a movie last night, a good one about
Aliens visiting a small town on a warm night, but mostly
About a haunting, mysterious sound on the wires.

(A good story sticks with me, you see.
The story teases like a dark closet.)

There was a language in it, hypnotic and subliminal.
The aliens put it into the minds of people to take them.
There was a craft overhead also, a shape faint and cunning.

(A good story sticks with me, you see.
The story whispers like an eager lover.)

I went to bed later, restless and listening intently
For the warble in the wires or the language I’d heard
Throughout the movie and even for a little while after.

(A good story sticks with me, you see.
The story clings like a well-spun web.)

The next morning, I woke up relieved
Because the morning had come for me
But the aliens had not.

My wife and I finally watched movie I had set aside in the wish list of one of the bazillion streaming services to which we subscribe. It was better than I thought it would be. About two-thirds of the way through, I stopped for a quick snack break and the basic framework of this poem came to mind. I wrote it in between quick and interested glances at the movie because I didn’t want to miss anything important in it either. I think I managed to do both well enough. What do you think?