I see you, you see me and you turn away and blush.
I smile and you see me from the side with a quick glance, I smile and I walk closer.
I sense your perfume and I yearn for your lips, your neck…
I remember the times we sat together facing an empty stage, your head resting on my shoulder, your hand in mine.

An abandoned theater where the ghosts of Nathan Detroit, Annie Oakley and Willy Loman reside in perpetuity. Shakespeare’s worlds collide with Neil Simon and Arthur Miller. The role players wander around back stage reciting their lines and looking for encouragement. Mrs Gibbs and Gloria Thorpe whisper in private and then close their door. While the Matchmaker simply smiles and looks up at the lights above. A man in the corner is bartering cash for a handshake while a green witch walks passed him with her sister laughing about the producers.

I wake to find myself on a chair.
Your vision still in front of me, lipstick on my collar and my shoes untied.
You are laughing, dancing for me as the ties that bound me fall to the ground and I am free.
What are these visions, these scenes that play out as if they are true life not simply fantasy?
I remember my name and that brings some consolation.
I hear laughter and I see tears falling.
A masterpiece in shreds on the floor.
Empty pockets, rain is falling and there ain’t no end in sight…’cept in my heart…
I know the sun will shine again.
I take your hand, our lips meet and I smell the freshness of your flesh, your heart beating and your eyes agleam. You are the one, you are the one…