It was her job to interview the man.
But she knew he wasn't going to make it easy.
She met him backstage as he was being powdered.
"Hey there..." and he ended with some ****** comments.
Three words in and already she felt flustered.
"Hello! Hello!" She hadn't gotten this far
to fall apart at the hands of some buffoon.
And he was heralded as a man of great importance,
of great worth, of great ... greatness.
But the world sees with its eyes closed sometimes
can't smell the ******* underneath its nose.
"We're on in five." The message prompted her to say,
"Well, see you on the stage" and she stood up to walk away.
But he shooed the makeup artist and held her up another second.
"I think you're ..." all these years she had performed,
she had excelled, she had grown. And still, the men
on thrones thought they could hold her down. "I'm sorry,
but no." That was the end of that. His face turned red.
She walked on stage. The show had just begun.