Actors drive cabs or wait tables.
Often they are forced to live in Brooklyn.
But that doesn't stop them.
That's who they are: actors in New York
The money doesn't matter.
The suspense at the end of the Sopranos was "cruel,"
The TV critic said the next day.
I couldn't sleep.
Between that and the Tony awards, it was a Sunday night
Better than the Beatles on Ed Sullivan.
Tony Tony Tony.
My heart was pounding.
I was suspended, sorry for Janice and A.J. especially,
Because they never knew better,
Although they tried for a brief time,
To find meaning.
Christopher tried, too, in AA, before Tony took the chance
To enable death once more, pinching shut the nose of his dying kin.
Taking mushrooms in Vegas didn't last
And therapy enabled him.
Tony needed one more fix of feigned introspection.
The great respect for money
That always suckers would be immigrants,
Thrift-addicted Mennonites, mobsters,
and the Norman Rockwell family;
If they only knew
That they will almost always end up in a diner,
Dread dripping off every onion ring
While they practice pretending,
Acting that everything is all right.
-- Gregoire Melville
Monday, June 11, 2007
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