Seagulls plot arcs over the door
over the hot cars. Here memory
is so thick it feels like human
history has culminated

Pearl and Dean a mythologic
aspect. Kids leapfrog the bollards
like I once did, like I hope my
kin will again. A welcome twist.

Let the end of times have no grip
on ideas that build themselves here –
like popcorn in its cabinet
which is hot with old emotion

Or the tickets which are paragon
of what exchange could be – given
a projectionist with a just wage.
Here shines paper, now go through here –

Here is the event, the dark room
where people wait, quietly pray
and laugh, and then titles, silence –
Materialism of light –

And after, that feeling of loss
of what has been gone through, firstly
then the door with star shaped handles
The carpark night’s warm gradient