my actress, who
sweated blood on Broadway each night
off Broadway too
said, on a long stroll
through Central Park. she was successful
because she did not like herself
on the stage, she proclaimed,
she was never herself, and she fell in love
with every character she portrayed
every script was a better bio
than her own, and the playwrights knew
her better than she knew herself
and when our walk
was curtailed by a downpour, she dragged me
into a crowded cafe
where she knew half the patrons
and the wait staff, and they all knew the different
personas she had owned, on the dry stage
rain now forced her to choose
which selves to keep, and which to lose
while she sipped scalding tea
with me, on a grey wet afternoon,
only hours before she would again be under
the spell of the hot lights,
and read verses from the pens of prophets,
poets--those who purloined her soul for the price
of admission, to a place without self loathing
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC
my actress, who
sweated blood on Broadway each night
off Broadway too
said, on a long stroll
through Central Park. she was successful
because she did not like herself
on the stage, she proclaimed,
she was never herself, and she fell in love
with every character she portrayed
every script was a better bio
than her own, and the playwrights knew
her better than she knew herself
and when our walk
was curtailed by a downpour, she dragged me
into a crowded cafe
where she knew half the patrons
and the wait staff, and they all knew the different
personas she had owned, on the dry stage
rain now forced her to choose
which selves to keep, and which to lose
while she sipped scalding tea
with me, on a grey wet afternoon,
only hours before she would again be under
the spell of the hot lights,
and read verses from the pens of prophets,
poets--those who purloined her soul for the price
of admission, to a place without self loathing
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