The pile of boxes
Lay at the end of the bed
She stands
Researching
Rehearsing
Each line he said

Her horizons
Endless, nameless
A story starting with her sun

She acted all day
Perfecting the play
Of forgotten summers

At night, her mind in transit
Musical interlude
Records spin on repeat
Arms stretching
Around every boy she meets

Staring
She looks at them now
Vinyl sleeves worn thin
Each song tells a story
Needle scratches
beneath her skin

She'll never forget his face
Feelings transcend time
But still the rock
keeps turning
Burning, forever

Telling tales of youth gone by
Eternally lost
In the orbit
of her mind's eye.

You watch a lot of people on TV
Then judge them on their acting
Some really deserve praising
While some I question how they even became actors
They're so stiff
Their expressions so still
Their voices so monotone
I really question their job
I sometimes think I could do better
But who would agree to that
When I feel embarassed trying to be someone else

This has happened before

He knows the ribbon of it,

the fluttering murmur of

her final breath that mouths

on earth is no abiding stay

all men must pass away.

and the refraction of its sin

when he says

Did I whiten you again?

allowing the ripple of his grief

to frame its recollection.

And now remembered

it seems so ancient an event,

that for one long echo

time might stop;

and recommence

in the forgetting

of pitch and sprocket,

or at least hold still long enough

that he can splice

and better understand it.

The dead’s final gift to the living,

this swoop of sorrow,

the violence that Spring wraps tight.

“What makes a star?” he asks

knowing that everybody has a plan

until they get punched in the face.

So hit me again,

ruin my body for

the pleasure of others.

Knock me unconscious with

a sucker punch I won’t

remember having thrown

…and then come round

in a yellowing delete and

the close-eyed,

bruised acceptance

that the kid I once knew

who was up for the fight,

is now composing himself,

broken knuckled,

ready to be captured

by the camera’s empty promise.

The body I once owned

giving itself up to the star

I thought it might become.

This matter of life and death

is a serious matter
not to be taken lightly
as though watching a play
from a seat in a balcony

Stand up

get on stage and take your bow
choose a character and play yourself
as far as your heart will take you
the part has been written
the casting call is posted
you are invited to play the role
you were born for

Come on, girl,
keep your smile up.
Keep your smile up,
keep your smile bright,
do you best not to falter.
All the world is your stage,
but dear God, do the lights blind you.
Still, you can't miss a step,
don't miss a single step,
because just one slip will send you flying,
and no matter how much you love to fly,
what goes up must come down.
They can never know,
they will never see,
and you will never tell them
why your smile prefers to be a frown.

Show me what you can’t tell
From all your eavesdropping nights
The languid-age’s usher is itself
An innocent pusher of wares and waters
Like a dog-eared page, always there but
In the foggy memory of past chapters,
A silent stranger to the binding
Actors in world of 10,000 faces each of sound
And hailing of an old friend, and exits stage left:
I give you Seasons change:
Bitter chills, coming and leaving less, made her sandals
Turn into sneakers, then to boots, all one size larger than before.
I give you Divorce:
They laid prostrate in bed staring earnestly
At an open window on wither side of the room.
I give you Poverty:
The boy ran through the convenience store aisle like
It was the garden of Eden and his mother’s $6.26 in change
Made him hear the voice of God.
I give you I am drunk:
Hey, babe. What are you up to? It’s been like three days since…well
I think I miss you and you are so ****.
I give you I am envied:
All the glitter of pins came through the little slits of her eyes
And that mouth could press its own diamonds.