by Mark J. Mitchell
For Milt Commons How many times did he dress this old show? Who starred that first time? On that brand new stage? See faces first, he prompts himself. These names can wait in downstage wings. The quick-change show. Too fast to see each boy. And the long show in verse, with the famous voice and the line he always dropped. Handsome. He saved each show’s poster. Some on his walls. Outside, rude cars, like coughing houses, break his thought. Remind him roles weren’t all he saw. That so slow kiss. A hand that touched his. Just once. His long list runs like lighting cues now, rehearsing time. He’s an astronomer, remembering stars.
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