poem

 Mousetrap

All the world’s a stage

Step right up

And wait for your cue 

No one else can play your part 

The genius of the bard

Was not the plays about life

But to see life as the grand play 

Layered with other plays,

Plays within plays. Your life is one.

Even this is a scene

Me, right here, and whoever decides

To join, no matter where you are

In time. I’m performing now. Not to

Entertain you but because there’s 

Nothing else to do. This is all there is

And now I finally have someone’s attention. 

It’s a strange play

Scriptless but an infinite cast

To account for everyone you meet

Or hope to or never will.

We all get roles but no rehearsals. 

You’ll have to forgive the ragged edges

My lines are strictly improvisational

I have no idea what happens next

I used to steal swaths of text

From scripts written long after the fact

But this is different. This is now. 

I mean it this time. You have to suspend 

Your disbelief, ignore the dusty

Curtains and cheap props

And the exit door in back 

And the janitor leaning against his mop.

I feel naked here but you probably 

Think it’s only a costume.

No, it really is me. I’m trying to be serious

This time. Please don’t be angry.

I know how much you spent 

On tickets. But I assure you

I’m doing the best I can.

I promise I’ll make it worth it.

Rather late in life I learned the secret

Of the stage—

When all else fails just tell the truth.

People know it when they hear it

And ours, they’re never heard before.

2/22/26