nickels; the movies
You could be carrying in your pockets
an old coin, a stick of gum.
It is Sunday and the streets are
as deserted as the drive-in movies
at dawn, on a rainy day.
But never mind the theater, you know, cinema.
I spent all of last week locked in my room
reading stories by Nin and pretending to be in love
It's a business, like sports, the movies.
Just a business. No golden age.
The landscape outside my window is dead
or dying - as is the scenery on the screens.
Once there was a time when you could go
to the movies and experience an experience.
Something new, warm, totally and wholly beautiful
like seeing the moon over the desert for the first time.
Now, but now there is no sanctuary.
There are no wonderful river and
where there is water absent of ducks we find
Holden's proverbial frozen pond.
You walk down the streets some more,
until winter and tread across the tired ice,
slowly watching for the campfires. Waiting
for the gallery of voices to speak
of the moving pictures -
you know -