I sit in the audience and stare
at the glowing red exit sign,
watching a show not quite bad enough
to make me want to leave.
So I sit
and endure cold air blowing from heat vents,
thick choking fog pouring from mechanical mouths backstage.
The lead forgets a line,
skips a beat,
and wishes the show would end.
"I could just die from embarrassment."
Share This Poem