Disclaimer: What you're about to read is magic.
I will show myself to you like a rabbit and then I will disappear. While you're
reacting with a gasp I'll be backstage slipping out of a rabbit suit, pulling
the hat down over my head, close to my eyes, and walking head down out of this
place.
I will appear to you like an enigma and you won't be sure what you've seen.
Was that? Is that? You won't know. You will have to wait for the next show,
which you won't know is happening until you've already registered the flash.
This time I might be backstage, hat pulled low, hands in pockets, leaned back
cool against a wall...waiting. I might make eye contact and push easy off the
wall on my way out. I'll have given you something and it will be up to you to
decipher the clue.
Next time I am Your audience, and we'll start this lovers dance of call and
response. We can go on like this for awhile - eye contact to eye contact, show
after show, golden sight to dark blue storm. Flashes. It's magic revealing the
slights of hand and optical trickery. Time and Light.
Words will come next; written like crawling vines spiraled around the feet of
broken statues looking for new definitions of beauty and significance.
Questions will arise in my mind and I'll play the sly rabbit again, slipping
off to more important responsibilities than the indulgence of a crush. But I'll
still be dark blue searching for the flashing glimmer of gold in tonight's audience.
You will come back around and we will find ourselves alone, facing each other,
our bodies bathed in swaying candlelight, naked. Vulnerable.
The next night you'll be waiting backstage holding my hat and checking your
make-up in the mirror. You'll listen for the audience's collective gasp and
the click of the latch in the trap door as you turn your head and smile. I'll
tuck my hat in my back pocket. My hand will find the small of your back as we
make our way to the door. We'll step out into the spotlight of a street lamp,
breathe deep, and check the time. You're hungry and I just got paid.
May - July 2007
Thursday Night Write