Popcorn

How peaceful it is to glide around unannounced on flat pieces of plastic they call skis. Why plastic gives you a placid feeling inside is unknown.

We're backstage, giddy with nerves and

tired out of our minds, whisper-laughing as we mess 

with our hair, with each other, try to put on makeup in the dark. 

L.A., the golden city of dreams, where singers and actors come to achieve

L.A., the catwalk of fashion and style, all advertised with a Cheshire cat smile

Cockroaches on the tables, no bathroom breaks, what could be worse?

Rats on the floor, no air conditioning, what could be worse?

Terrible pay, that's what could be worse

Is to be breath-taken upon your last breath,

Is to still recall the joy

of lying on your back, laughing, 

in the meadow.