Darling, I am severely jetlagged
in the time zone of many reasons
to leave and forget you.
In the theater of love
I’m hurled rotten eggs at
for the stellar performance
The Old Vic hasn’t seen awhile,
"quite a while" will not be a misnomer.
My convincing delivery
had the right emotional balance:
the anguished stutter,
the wicked lisp,
the passion, the duel, the relief by the curtain.
And the outfit I wore to the final bow
was of ornate design and of pure colors.
Damn, I was so good.
But so un-William in my self-appreciation and righteousness.