stages

After your performance,
the Wednesday matinee,
you exited the stage
but kept making jokes

You looked at me,
puzzled,
expecting me to
heckle
you -
like the people
who paid
to see you
liked to do

When I didn't laugh,
you began your choreography;
then the magic show routine
where you were less Houdini
and more water tank;
You could hold your breath
a long time;
a trick no one asked to witness

The manager hung back
to watch my patience
and shook his head
while clicking
off
all the lights

You finished
with your Hamlet soliloquy
for the bartender
who just wanted to
go home
instead of being asked to
feed you
lines

The next day
when the curtain rose
no one remembered;
except me in my sobriety

You forgot the scene
and pretended there
was a new one written
without an author
or audience