Movie Theater in the Basement

In the basement, I fumble with a veil
and rush to set black drapes
against the sun
so that the projector can be clear.
Everyday, I see a life
spin towards ejecting possibility,
the dregs of self lying tired in heaps behind.
Hip and young,
I know the infinite. Distant and vain,
I’ve got the Earth and
the quick beat of each person
tapped on my eye.
It’s just a shooting
light. But please: cut it
into harsh pixels.