Shining, staring,
broken pieces,
glaring and the moments of silence.
Breathe against wonder with the glances askance.

Painted faces,
molded plastic,
warming for the show to get started;
just a little melody—returning again.

Turning, waiting—
lucky silence.
Carry on, smiling and sighing;
skirting turns cleverly by keeping the peace.

Disappearing.
No more hiding.
Wince and move, dodging the flinches,
smiles glazed over, caution pulling the strings.

Am I crazy?
Am I crazy?

Edge inviting,
close as ever.
Company trying for distance,
pushing up further every step taken back.

Standing still now,
void increasing,
recognizing one from the other
suddenly confusing with the meaning askew.