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Alan D. Taylor

Three Nights and a Matinee

We complete our little dance, amongst children dressed as animals. Lindsay at the front and me at the back, blind, except for the stage illuminated brightly between our sackcloth legs. The audience, out there somewhere, applaud and cheer. We shuffle off, feet in time and wait our next cue, sweating. In the wings a cold can of beer changes hands

spotlight
over a pantomime cow
the moon