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

with 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 -

cinema.