“She steps into La Roue de la Fortune movie theater”

She steps into La Roue de la Fortune movie theater off the Jersey Turnpike, buys a ticket, and so swiftly the waters roll above her instinctual visions:Plaza,Il Piazzo, creep of film over the sound of the words piano,purr, whisper across her neck, one door opens another, in the labyrinthine pitch to preserve order, the expulsion from Eden, the dark soda up her clear plastic straw, reels of rodents, popcorn, teenage workers, acne, blood and circulation turn to ice inside this mechanized paradise, where reality meets the sound of gardens growing past their makers’ dreams, growing strange and outrageous. She stops to check her phone and the phone lights up,Putin,Botox, Trump, the garden grows outward, up, to each side, the ghosts are simply plants who forgot to stop growing; they groan, shriek, quake, giggle, gurgle, stare, and point fingers at the living. I’m glad I’m in love, she thinks.