The marquee’s dropped its letters to the ground
and feeds the yucca plants with movie stars
where crabgrass cracks the asphalt into mounds,
road gutted, inaccessible to cars.
Lost wind blows up the skirts of ticket booths
where families stuffed in pick-up trucks hid low.
Door speakers hang like guts of run-down dogs.
Our popcorn bags composted long ago.