Jun 24, 2019
Midsummer
I couldn't focus on too much.
Chainsmoking and irritable, I couldn't focus.
The rest of the audience
Found me a boor to deal with, me
and my ruminations
and lo, upon looking at the sky,
The clouds formed in the semblance
Of Robin Goodfellow himself,
Leering haughtily down upon the faults
And flaws of human error he himself
Could never hope to be free from.
And then at once
There was silence in my mind.
The chattering ceased and upon the utterance of the final soliluquey, and the dissolution between audience and players became fully realized, my disturbance of the audience wasn't outside the script, it was a part of it.
Sometimes, we play into a role
Without realizing.
Who's the audience? Are they clapping?
