it is hard to keep arranged the dichotomies when
you are strange
harder to line up the theme with meaning when
you forgot the dreams
I forgot the cast, the leading lady, the antagonist,
the hero the villains,
the theater where it all takes place.
When the curtain dropped,
the flowers died, the audience no longer cried.
But some of us remained.
long after the echoes died
the bouquets dried up
the house lights came up
showing the mascara running
wild down our
lonesome faces.