I read plays for the passion,
the interaction that doesn’t exist elsewhere

like Tennessee Williams describing how perfect the name
“fire escape” is
and how desperation is truly the essence
of humanity that drives us all

I laugh with that passion

that utter desperation becoming sweat
on my brow in the dead of winter,

and it turns everything to stone,
even with the right titles and language

perhaps I do write like a 12 year old
just now discovering her pen

but I like to believe in the capabilities of man,
the way to rise above
the boxes you put us in

I don’t think I’d ever be able
to write a new play.

03/18/2009

Posted on 03/18/2009
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