Playbill

i.

script writers spit
sour words late into
the night, pressing
amplified aromas into 
street gutters

she sips rejection
in silence and chokes 
down her dying dreams



ii.

sharp-edged tickets swirl,
slide beneath red carpets 
rolled like stylized pages
on an art board

she scrambles for 
silver trinkets



iii.

hope cannot live 
long enough for 
the gentle winds
of prosperity 

time becomes bound 
by yesterday's vision to 
feed an empty stomach



iv.


bright lights
find thin hands
scraping alley trash
where eyes wear red 
better than the 
lead character

she fingers a 
yellowed playbill 
and smiles at the sky 



















Pamela A. Lamppa
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all rights reserved