Understudy

Have I become your sofa
am I useful as your footstool
As you walk past the ants in the streets
your props

Long winter nights are hot or cold for you
the rest of us
the huddled masses
we wait for our cue to go on stage

And I–merely an understudy
from the underbelly of the populace
applaud your efforts
to keep your world–kept

Posant pour vous chéri
your antagonist–on the ready
ever steady with your lines
to fuel your justifications

Sitting at the table with you
I am no more to you
than the vegetables in your soup
if you ate me would you mourn me

Daydreaming about connections
making love like a bandit
listening to Body and Soul
on the Victrola

outside of my body
I watch us as we roll

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