Thespis

I went to the theater on page 118 

in a book at the end of the street.

I waited for Thespis and for the sleep 

I lost one night to return. 

I was quite ill with secrets

one in particular; a dead theory 

on the basic fire principal.

Now without spark.

I drifted off 5 times

during the last soliloquy

and then never fully woke up

Apparently having gone mad

I simply chose not to be.

My love had gone mad already. 

In the 17th century.

The theater was ablaze;

with thundering applause.

The Greek tragedy on stage 1 

was a hit with the tuxedoed elite

The English play on stage 2 

not so much with the card dealers

 

As I recall

It was all so clearly garbled.

 

And I wondered who dared 

not to love Thespis as much as I? 

Sleeping quiescently;

and no longer ill with secrets

while people stepped on my

white chinchilla fur which fell

from my shoulders

at the exact same time

the last three curtains did

The two theater ones and mine.

I was dead  and also dead boring

But I saw it all looking back.

I Just didn't give ovation for it.

© Jobé 2022