I could see inside
Where we sat
From the headlights
Over expressways
Whose vacant rooms
Keeping shadows
Held vague figures
Seeming like us,

With familiar forms
Taking shape
Near concessions
And counters run empty
Once selling our joy
Always colorful
Sharing snacks
How memories taste

Which still believe
Some are screens
On abandoned lots
Nearing midnight
When winter’s dark
Beckons echoes
Only few can hear
Driving past –

That certain bliss
Skipping school
Or summer’s breath
Crowding doorways
While escaping lines
More oppressive
Than bad heat
Those days did forget,

Being young
But jaded enough
To appreciate scenes
By their ending
Since cinema meant
Little moments
Can fulfill my dreams
Even small

For afternoons there
Yet again
Despite such faith
Feeling dormant
As time has shown
Off of Travis
Hoping ghosts
Claim proof it endures.

• J. Pigno