05-16-2013, 02:31 PM
She stood eyes closed
and smelled mothballs.
Spirits of false lives
lingered with whispers
that echoed in rows
of empty seats.
Popcorn crushed,
road-kill against
the plush red carpet,
and the swivel sound
of heavy velvet retreats
into the wings.
Characters wilted
as halogen lights flickered.
She sighed in self-defeat
for last lines slipped by
unnoticed.
“We, the unwilling, led by the unknowing, are doing the impossible for the ungrateful. We have done so much, for so long, with so little, we are now qualified to do anything with nothing.
― Konstantin Josef Jireček
― Konstantin Josef Jireček