An Actor’s Shame
He was a performer
first and foremost.
But he strutted and
fretted with such
sincerity. Forget
but do not forget also
the intensity hewn
with a constant
through line of
anxiety, and you’ve
got the sort of life
a tombstone could
with pride announce
to its random and,
he’d hope a little,
not so random,
passers-by.
Which stunk.
He knew that.
Just as he most
always could close
his eyes and see
before him the
chaotic swoops
and swerves of
the story’s plot.
