A lit stage, with diffuse light,
An expectant audience,
Occasional murmers receding
Into restless silence.
All are present and
Accounted for; they hold
Their tickets in their hands
Like sacraments,
Reassuring, validating, official.
They fidget, watch the time,
Avert their eyes from their
Companions.
Finally, their anxiety mounts, their
Silence splinters into a cluster of
Whisperings; why are they not
Entertained?
The appointed time has come and
Passed, the show, the
Show must go on!
From nearby places and distant times,
They've all come for one
Purpose; to watch the
Monologue. Yes, the very
One that others like them
Heard; and how now can they
Be left out?
But look, a man walks on stage,
He is apologetic, he wrings his
Hands, he takes the
Microphone and informs them:
Someone shot the
Actor.