NaPowrimo Day 19

 

Day 19

the Sitcommers

Stale smoke in the rooms of writers

hanging like cumulus nimbus-any joke will fly

at anyone’s expense. The walls shake as the doors

are closed. The table is a prop and the food is faked.

She’s afraid of the voices of the chorus,

canned and loud. She didn’t even mean to tell a joke

So, it’s goodbye from him and it’s goodbye goodbye

from him; and it’s names appearing on the screen

over their faces, so, and so as so and so, introducing,

guest stars trailing dust like fading comets.

If the sky was a screen, if the mind was a set,

if the audience was paid to laugh.

And the whole cast, waving till their arms ache-

do you ever feel like that? Years of rep and repetition,

rictusing that grin. And your nylon dress of flames

and your dad's suit won't fit, but he’s really a good man-

and it’s good bye from you too, child star, starchild.

And it’s goodbye from him and her, and her and him.