godknowswhere

cornfields at night.
We had driven past them that morning in a stupor of nerves as I clutched my black audition notebook while in my black audition dress dreaming black thoughts.
The fields lay fallow beside the football field of Central High School in godknowswhere.
In the evening we could have been diving into unknown waters without any sort of guide–
the flat midwest doesn’t hold you until dawn.

Advertisements

Five O’Clock Shadow

I rubbed my chin as if to massage intelligent speech, as if to muster some semblance of control.
I felt stubble.
Damn.
My co-lead twirled on the stage
Turned her swan’s neck
and flipped her wings skyward
and I heard groans from the row behind.
The scene was done
But a faint whiff of something
Remained on set
A scent whose sensual finger beckoned.

I’ve seen men stand and excuse themselves
After she performs.
I’ve received the backhanded comments of the choreographer
Like a splash of coke on the face.
I rubbed my chin to clean up the corn syrup goop and
I felt stubble.
Damn.

Entr’acte

Late nights at the arts center, hugging the geometric curves of sleek cinder block corridors of its bowels, have kept me from prowling the streets and my memories in search of the next rocks pour. So I carry the next shot in my purse, a leather flask tippled in parking garages. Soon, I will slouch back to Merry Ann’s or go visit my old friend the Pittsfield, perhaps?

this side of the train tracks

Where I live the blocks are mixed; past a stop sign a road is flanked with the large-wrap-around-porch-rehabs with perfect landscaping owned by upper-middle-class townies and tenured professors and but a few jaunts east there will be the drab sagging collection of apartments, sublets, and duplexes inhabited by those blighted by Central Illinois’ financial woes and students who are too poor or too bored or too wrapped up in the collegiate experience to care. A gray day makes the vinyl siding look even more stained and moldy. Passing one intersection I happen to glance at a hand-written sign outside a mud-toned house with dead lawn and cracked cement porch, enscribed in a black pen so light it’s barely legible. The sign read:

AREN’T YOU GLAD

IT’S ALL OVER?

A few blocks down, a yard bears a stenciled sign reading: “Study Your Bible.”