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At the Paramount

My heart is a streak of cloud
Across a moon that
Shatters in the lake it lights.

It is also this palace with
Its pilasters and sconces
Pulsing to old music.

A Roadmaster ventricle
Pumps 28 cents per gallon
Sunsets of greenhouse gasses.

A dandelion root airbound
Fractures courtyard lobby
Pavers trod by descendants

Of enslaved Africans
And of serfs from Grodno
To Taiwan with telltale

Names like the blacklisted
Sympathizers haunting
Balcony and loge.

Waiting behind its curtains
The infinite blank screen
Glitters and murmurs.