3(Based on a photograph taken outside of a movie theater)
Outside the alcove
of the box-office
the sky is hot white as
the sun, leaning on the hills
like a mountainous counter
melts in its half of the sky
curtained off by the edge
of the theater.
The air is warm water
courtesy of the
Gulf and by way of
Arizona, and it sticks
to skin, and hair is
like the grass missing from
the Mojave.
Beneath the alcove,
the neon Cinemark sign,
night has seeped in early,
fluorescent stars wink in
a mirror sky reflecting the
boy's face back to him,
faceless,
a straw dipped in a glass
of ice water that becomes two
straws.
And the green
five in his smooth
grip crackles
like raw
current.
Father steps
aside and female
lips from red fire
glowing POPCORN
asks: May I help
you?
Out of the corner of
his eye: a statue
before white sifting
into fire that will become
darkness and stars, stands
quietly, but his voice
falls from above, reflected
by the early night,
and the boy
says:
Same as him.
By Frank Perez