I probably am,
a little theatre:
a fantocini
from time to time. Am
I pulling the strings
or just jerked around?
Or modernity
beckons and the words
are Grauman's Chinese:
I'm starstruck by the
sidewalk-signed handprints.
But then the music
hall curtain goes
up. The grammar is
Victoriana
served with Grand Guignol.
Maybe it's just East
European shades
you're seeing on this
page – no, I'll admit
all to you at last:
I am a Theatre
of the Absurd kind.
