You painted gloss on your face
pain in your eyes,
you left your lips because
they were chapped,
but the audience clapped anyway.

You kissed them too and afterwards
you smoked a cheroot with Bert the
artistic director.

He married Maureen from
the chorus line
there was a time a long ways back
when you and Bert flirted,
but it never went anywhere,
what with you up there in the spotlight
and him in the wings,
you'd given him the nod,
he'd given you a **** with
the lines he mistook
for those on your neck.

It's over now
the curtain fell,
the actress
her role
an empty
shell.

Farewell
to an audience
no longer there,
the lights have gone out
the billboards are bare.

And Bert doesn't care
does he?