the play

the face
is a variety show.

the thoughts,
the curtains.

the stage
is just a collection of
footprints,
leading to here.

the actors
are every stranger
and everybody
you have ever known.

the acts
are nothing more than verbatim
with similar props.

the performance,
a subsequence of rehearsal
leading to some vague type
of currency.

we bow,

becoming nothing more
than
bouquet's of flesh,
prepared
for the next billing.