If Coronado is a community
Self-satisfied, an grounded in the 1950’s
It has exceeded its communal impersonation
With the renovation of the movie house.
A marquee edged in blinking lights
Surrounds the neon promotion
Of this week’s films,
All promising a bright future.
Both the ticket booth and the lobby
Speak of the simple magic
That engaged my much younger self
Many a Saturday morning.
Cleaner than the Dewey on Coney Island Ave.
And forty times as expensive,
Selling popcorn and candies I remember
From the days of the Brooklyn trolleys.
Like most of Coronado, the nostalgia
Engendered by the movie house
Is part of the “lovely” set
That allows no ripped seats or cigarette butts.
Now the seats are tiered and comfortable,
The triplex theaters are small,
Sound surrounds the senses
And 3D films reach out to embrace you.
My cynical nature
Can not overwhelm
The reawakened technicolor dream.
If only they’d play an installment of a Flash Gordon.
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