I peak out from behind an empty seat.
The moon shines up on the giant screen.
Elliot flies by bike against the moonlight.
Like baked ham on a stick, E.T.'s head
juts out of the basket guiding the boy
and his bike to the spaceship heading home.

I beg mama for us to go home.
Too small to sit, I fold up with my seat.
I start to cry even though I'm a boy.
Tito Boy covers my mouth and points to the screen.
"Shh, hijo…look! He's sick." E.T.'s head
caves in. The screen flickers as the light

from the projector dies. The yellow lights
above fade in. Now I'm sure we'll head home.
But the movie starts up again. I see shadows of heads
on E.T.'s pale body. Sliding under the seat
I pretend the sticky floor is the screen.
A green Gummy Bear is E.T. and I, the boy,

Elliot. "Be Good," says E.T. A boy
like me cannot dream with the lights
off—the yellow above fades out as the screen
lights up again. The bear tells me, "E.T. phone home."
Barely lit, the popcorn spread under the seat
are stars. I bite off the Gummy Bear's head.

The taste of green and a hair from a lady's head,
thin and long, certainly not mine—not a boy's!
Reaching my hand in the dark below my seat
I stub my finger on cold metal. Ouch! A light
warmth drips down my fingers. Let's go home!
There's no point in crying, their eyes locked on the screen.

I clutch my finger near my chest. I smell sunscreen,
coconut still on my nose. We're at Naggs Head
for vacation this weekend. The sun rose from its home
in the ocean—I saw it this morning. Tito Boy
said "Don't look too long at the sunlight!"
I stare at him now up there on his seat.

His arm around my empty seat, wide eyes on the screen.
A warm blue light shines around his head.
With his smile I can tell Tito Boy is at home.