2-19-92

Three hours.

The play goes on

and on

and on, in the dark theatre.

Dinner, small talk;

Watching other dark faces that have lost interest.

Abruptly...

Eyes pop open, look up.

Plates flying off the table,

Off the stage.

Shattering into pieces.

Husband yells at wife,

Unexpected barage of vulgar words.

He stomps off-stage.

She sits and sobs.

Swarming thoughts in my head...

Ad-lib?

In the script?

Accidental loss of temper?

(He is a professional, after all)

Nope, it's a relief from the doldrums of Act III.

Jennifer Kelbaugh

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