on stage

I wait in the wings and
​listen for my cue as I
pace back and forth,
filled with nervous energy and anticipation.

I hold a pair of cheap plastic sunglasses and a wad of
fake paper bills. They tell me of the man I
will become when I take a step to my right, into
the light from the balcony that
claws its way into the
recesses of dark curtains,
faintly illuminating the others,
awaiting their own cues.

When I put on the glasses and step forward, all I
see is that piercing spotlight that (blocks) everything around it,
like a solitary star in the night sky, revealing the plastic and foam
set that resembles a house.    

When I put on the glasses and step forward, I
step around the bench and potted plant where
secrets are revealed, and up the stairs where the words
spoken by characters resonate and echo off
into the darkness beyond the stage.

When I put on the glasses and step forward, all I
hear are my footsteps on the wooden stage, breaking the silence
before I turn and recite my lines, so familiar, coming out of my mouth, but
at the same time feels like I am saying them for the first time.