Walking in.
In hand, a pink/brown suitcase.
Wearing an orca suit.
Doesn't matter why.
Dark auditorium.
Millions of thumb faces.
Smudged away by the painter.
Stumbling up and down the seats.
Sitting in one.
Getting Up
Moving to another.
All of the sudden in the front row.
Watching the spectacle.
At hand & on stage.
Too bright to actually see.
Just a white sun spot.
Then everyone is waiting.
Women are called on stage.
They are beautiful.
One by one they step up.
The wood floor is worn & polished.
And then they say my name.
And I stand up.
I'm in a tight red dress.
I tip toe to the stage.
All the thumb faces are silent.
Relaxed & unfocused.
I stand there, feeling the end of a joke.
And they clap and we smile.
I'm in between Ellen and Madonna.
Suddenly, every one is gone.
And we leave the stage.
Behind the scene.
Everything is concrete.
Obsolete.
Madonna looks at me.
And I feel myself swallow any hope,
Of an ego.
Eradicated, I know she thinks I'm nothing.
I run to the small bathroom mirror.
My two front teeth are gapped.
Bent inward.
Tears spills out from my eyes and down my face.
I run into the alley and look around.
I remember I left my suitcase where I was sitting.
Back at my seat, everyone is gone.
My suitcase is open and empty.
All my clothes are mixed up with things on the floor.
I slowly gather them.
As the the janitor man applies lipstick,
The movie star mirror looking back.
I walk to the front.
Heels clicking.
A man with long black hair is waiting.
'Why didn't you get my suitcase?'
'I don't know.'