smiling practice

I salvage cuttings from a highlight real of days between my waking. out of luck and breath: chasing a bus of old friends from a school I never attended. they're off to the city and there wasn't room left for me. some wave back and others laugh. I can't keep up but run until my knees lock. they turn onto the freeway. I cry and watch them disappear; a bird into a cloud.

pre-show in the spine of a playhouse I once haunted. the green room is full of theatre folk I was never good enough to really know. they exchange praise and contour each other's faces. the ingenue forgets my name and asks if I can hold her flowers. I watch her practice smiling in the mirror.

they bomb another capital with tools I work to fund. too little to raise eyebrows anymore. I watch the missiles strike apartment blocks whilst waiting for my coffee. outside the students gather in protest and shout into overcast skies. you can hear them from inside the library. hysterical, distracting. I hope for rain and do my best to think of something else.