You fail to anticipate the superfluousness
of the run-through
and run home to check your notes,
channel-surfing for answers to the 20 questions
hanging around the stoop.
Your dog uses a Kindle to calibrate loneliness
then texts the stationmaster
who reassures all that there are still only three colors
and a partridge in the pear tree.
Someone arrives on the 11:05
and begins dismantling the prose
cluttering the entryway.
Who was that masked man/woman?
Have you checked in with your sponsors?
Perhaps they can spare the change
although it's unlikely that the 12-tone mini-u-et
will carry the burden of absence.
The viewers are sure to expect more.
You know this despite the fatigue
pestering your keyboard.
It's time to come clean.
Not a big deal. Never was. Never will be.
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| Vally Nomidou |