it’s humid in the theatre
and we dance to a song about a circus
wearing character shoes on a slippery stage

between breaks we sit across from each other
she holds sylvia plath close to her heart
virginia woolf on her tongue

i feed her a peeled orange
while she looks out the window with languid eyes
where a bright blue sky waits for us

tomorrow we’ll have to come back again
but this time, a red picnic blanket
on green grass is when we’ll be alone

she’ll read me dickinson
while i feed her strawberries
and together, we’ll look up at the cloudless blue sky