the good guy

we stood in the wings and he looked out
at the audience.
“I can’t see the audience,” he told
me.
“yeah,” I said.
“I like to see the audience,” he said,
“I like to see their faces and their
eyes, don’t you?”
“I prefer them in the dark,” I answered,
“all I want is a little beer and horse
money and then I want to clear out.”
“I don’t know about you,” he said,” but
I want to give the audience my feelings
and my art.”

he walked out on the stage and hollered
out, “I want LIGHTS!   I want lights on
the audience!”

the lights went on.

“all right,” he said, “everybody come down
close, gather about me here.   that’s it,
that’s it, get close, get closer. I want
to see your faces. I want to look into
your EYES and I want you to look into
mine.

I walked back stage looking for a restroom.
I couldn’t find one.   I couldn’t find a
trash can.   I walked   down a small stairway
and began to pewk.   my vomit dripped down
the stairway and he began to sing his love
song.

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