Sunday, January 13, 2008

A Short Film

anyone would like to
have lunch with the boy who lies
crouched beneath the folded and
padded seat in the movie house,
sneakers sticking noisily to
third-rate, Coke-dried cold cement
flooring, white shuddering
lights commiserating with his
deeply unwrinkled face, bearing
the long wisdom of a sleeping
giant—
the boy watches, reversed, the rich
communal reverie, a
smiling solemnity,
and his two moist, imploring
eyes reflect this scene
quite noiselessly.

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