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opening night

Musty curtains with a decade of dust And a pock-marked floor A dressing room door that won’t quite shut Graffiti on the green-room walls A secret door that leads to the boiler room But I know every story this place has to tell I know every line, and cue Each chord and step and prop for the action crew My costume fits just right and I am so ready for this night to just begin What I love is that you get to be someone different than you See things from another’s point of view Dress like you’re a tree sprite, a go-go dancer, or a chivalrous knight It’s odd but by being someone else, you seem to be the purest form of yourself After weeks of preparing I’ve learned the whole thing My lines, his theirs hers, but I can’t seem to remember what happens first My mind goes blank and I fear the worst I’ve been totally chilled all day, like a Colorado peak. But for some reason my cool has melted, triggering an avalanche of panic. All the moisture in my mouth has migrated to my hands I know this, my first line is……… “hi?” No that’s not it, man, what can it be? I knew I should have brought my script with me. Did I place my props? Where’d I put my shoes? Is my entrance locked? It is!! What do I do? Oh wait, that’s the closet. I glance at the director and smile I feel like I’ve just walked for miles and miles I’m exhausted and I haven’t even begun The lights go up This is where I belong
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Written by
lacey-anderson
Canadian
Published
Feb 24, 2012
Lines·Words
41·275
Notes

2010

Permission

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