Theater

The director of the show watches from a booth,
above the theater,
no one can see him,
concealed by one-way glass.

He looks at the audience and stage
and says,
“Let’s see what they do.”

The crowd eagerly awaits,
the lights dim,
the curtains unravel,
the floodlights flood the stage,
and only a microphone stand appears.

Anticipation,
eager eyes,
the audience is at the edge of their seats!
then twiddling their thumbs,
then looking around,
then sitting for much too long.

People begin whispering to each other:

one angrily shouts,
(what the fuck is this?!)
voices raise and the crowd’s energy crackles like lightning

one sadly pleas
(perhaps it will start soon!?)
voices lower and the crowd’s energy wanes like an ocean wave

one walks to the stage
(the audience notices)
Silence.

He is not an actor.
He is a person.
He is not part of the show.
He is the show.

He wrestles the microphone from the stand
and begins,
“Ladies! Gentlemen!”
The director, still hidden, takes note.
He continues,
“It has come to my attention
that the show has not begun
so what say we
start it on our own?”

The crowd begins in commotion again
What is he saying?
Start this show? How?
We just want to watch the show…
He’s crazy!
Who does he think he is?!

The man eyes the crowd for a moment
he once lived in this theater
and loved it as much as June.

But a certain man
corrupt in his ways
laid-off all the workers in June.

So this time it seems
he’ll do as he’ll do
and regardless of what he’ll do
he’ll make this crowd his audience soon.

He pumps one arm in the air
his index finger pointing
at the hidden booth.

They look at each other
and say together,
“DANCE!”

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