The show

Headed out to the show, I saw my breathing
Staring at the raindrops, that rippled on the evening
On a Saturday night, the night was dead
As we passed by the windows, the eyes were being fed
We entered the building, the teller called the next call
The loftly public lingered through the halls 
We came upon a line where the people swarmed 
A scent flowing in the air of buttered corn
The refreshments were ready and the dough was heated
The lights were dim, and the persons were seated
We opened the door, and walked right in
The rainy night was ready for the movie to begin