Fallen Dancer

The footlights grow from a glow
To a bright haze.
The proscenium is bathed in
Gold and orange lights.
All of the flats have the appearance
Of Abstract Expressionist paintings.
The orchestra bursts into "Do you wanna dance?".
Here comes our leading lady, blonde and
Dressed like Marilyn.
Followed by a supporting cast of
Beautiful young men and women.
The blonde bounces around the stage
Getting to know everyone she meets.
After completing the routine, she holds her head
And falls on the white tape "X" at center stage.
The house lights are up now that it is intermission
And the floor-seats are empty.
In the box-seats are seated the ghosts of my past.
The audience wonders as to the dancer's confusion
But not a ghost leaves the auditorium.
A scream from the greenroom heralds
In the second act.
A lone flute whines as the follow-spot searches
The vacant stage, while Thespians wander
Through the backstage door to the alley.
Newspaper reviews will only be obituaries
Of our leading lady;
While I, the lone comedian, wait for
My cue in the empty wings.

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