Dark misunderstanding forest
of Ignorance.
Purple bruises of thought
Gone for not.
Your gray matter is not quick
Enough.
Dunceville,
Down the road,
The road often taken
By those who don't "Get it."
Crimson falls wash over the rocks
of Complex Fractions.
Ah, forget it!
Fire engine red madness flows down
the canal of gray.
With tales of great Pythagoras
in his infinite cruelty,
creating this place where so many
are lost.
The distant right angle hills,
A square plus B square steps taken
On the Road.
There will be no joy in Dunceville tonight,
Mighty Casey will strike out.

The silver screen,
now dull gray, but still bright,
with Bogart and Bacall.
"You know how to whistle, don't you?"
Screen torn, never fixed,
right on the corner
by the apple green neon exit sign
where I snuck in countless times.

Right where I like to sit,
in the dark, reflections of light,
filtered through celluloid,
"Rose-bud"
snapping by at 24 frames a second.
Framed in noir shadows, and
bathed in limelight.

Third row, second seat.
Favorite spot despite
the sticky floor from dozens,
upon dozens, of spilled Cokes.
Like the one I spilled on her
first date, first kiss, first grope.
"Here's looking at you kid."

"Please put your feet down,"
flashed the usher with his light
countless times.
Down from the torn up seats
to the strata of confections
layered on the carpet floor.
Milk Duds, Dots, and popcorn.

Outside the art-deco spire rises high,
Skyward, with sleek lines and words.
"La Reina."
The marquee sings the title of
the next picture show.
I'm ready for my close-up Mr. DeMille."
The theater darkens.