Small Town Plays

 

They see actors, yessssss
Acting out characters they met
Many times before. They've seen
Scrooge, and Wendy's rubied toes,
They recognize clearly the little
orphan Annie, Anne Frank, 
 Romeo and Cinderella.

They see actors, yessssss
But actors they've seen before
Seen play the Panthers on the court last week
Seen grow from 3 foot 4 to 6 foot 3
From chests flat to biblical curves
From boys and girls climbing trees
To climbing the seats in backs of cars
And corners of basements.


And the actors perform for their audience, yesss....
An audience that's dark against the hot
spotlights in their eyes, mere shadows,
bespectacled, glaring back at them in
anticipation, emotions ready for whatever
the commanding actors demand of them,
strangers in a strange sea of seats.


The actors perform for that audience, yessss....
But an audience they've seen before,
Seen shake their hand after they beat the Panthers,
Seen drive them around and package them lunches,
Seen grow from blonde to brown to cinnaberry,
From fit to fat, from smooth to wrinkles.
From worrying about the heights of trees
To the depths of seats in backs of cars
And basements.

Why I Hate Jobs

Because now we don't farm for a living, we starve our souls.
Because now we don't sweat in the sun, we freeze in the air conditioning.
Because now we don't sing spirituals together in pain, but make our mouths smile to elevator music.
Because now we don't drink fresh-sqeezed lemonade on porches for our break, but bottomless bottles of bitter liquor in tinted windowed bars.

Why?