another opening night, again

another opening night looms ahead
right around the corner
just a block away
a sleep
one massage of dreams before
the lights and clapping
(hopefully)
before I put my routine
on hold
in order to become a spectacle
for an hour, tomorrow
I will once again dance and sing
hit my marks
(hopefully)
will it mean anything at all?
I wonder
to the crowd, perhaps
I will with my team provide
an hour’s worth of entertainment
and something for couples to discuss
over pie
but to me
sometimes I feel like if the crowd
just disappeared
I wouldn’t care
I entertain, yes
and the laughter I incite does
tickle me
but my participation is selfish
self-serving, self-affirming
my acting means more than my actions
the escape through playing a character
is greater than the escape of drugs
it elevates me from my station
my problems do not exist
I have no rent, no job at the bar
no concerns about hygiene or
whether there is enough toilet paper
or if those tomatoes in the fridge have turned
there is only my life on stage
with a beginning and an end
and drama and laughs in-between

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