Rumors, delighting in humor,
Tragedy looming on the verges of speech.
Feet upon the stage, frantically making sounds of fury,
Signifying nothing when the lights come down for good.
Sighs, before the sun came up, painting paused,
For sucking and straddling and quiet cumming secretly backstage.
The sounds of admission, the rustle of changing positions as the second act stretches into the third and legs are moved to keep from falling asleep.
Opera and hip-hop, songs of heartache and triumph,
Dead silence cut by the whirring of a miter saw or
A vaccuum cleaner.
The sound of snoring in the dead of the morning
The night before the show opens, when sleep finally took hold.
Rallying against the coming of the night,
A candle crackling trying to make it bright.