CINEMA

Every night

a different kind of sunset.

The projector rolls.

The audience sits

perched

on tiny balconies.

It comes in slowly

spreading itself.

We watch

in silence

lest one imposes on

silent meditations.

The first one

rich and passionate

a watermelon sky

dripping vibrant

the second quietly pink and pale

a sipping sky

A third hovered into blues and greens

against the lowering sun.

Tonight we wait

poised

happy.

Between the two mountain peaks

the Zihuatenejo Gods

set their stage.