Nothing could touch her on this night that promised sparkle and intensity. A fusion of bygones as she swept past people,swimming in the artificial light.Outside,the sky looked like El Greco’s ‘Laocoön’ as she felt the red bleeding from her lips. Her hair,nearly down to her waist,almost choked her as she convinced the on-lookers of her sweeping passion.The empty floor was her home,a stage to play on and be someone else.Its ok if they cat-called or whistled,they wouldn’t recognize her walking the streets in the morning anyway.
Sometimes her boots would hurt and her costume would snag as someone tried to pull it off.Sometimes she didn’t feel the whiteness of her teeth flow through her entire body.Did it ever occur to anyone that she could possibly like books?Or a nice walk in Central Park?Or how relieving it would feel to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge to break the delicate murkiness of the Hudson River.
But it was fine,you know.In actuality,she might grow up and out of this,and fall for someone who thought he knew it all,and why it all couldn’t be as simple as they said it was.Maybe she’d buy a dog or give extra money to her dead mother’s estranged sister.Maybe she’ll look back and think ‘I really don’t have to look back anymore’.
But for now,for this cloudly,starless night that promises confusion,the show must go on.