109. THE BURMESE PUPPET THEATER

THE BURMESE PUPPET THEATER
The one with the fascinating fingers kept me
comfortable in an old tophat and a reclining
chair while 'Cabaret' played on the large-sized screen.
I felt like a royal flush on an archbishop's broad
and gilded throne. That didn't last for long.
-
In another instant I was capsized and adrift
on a nasty and broiling sea - wine-dark, just
like Homer said, I think it was, sparking great
debates amidst scholars for years to come - and
I knew for sure there'd be no rest for a while
and that nothing like this had happened before.

-
I took out a pen with which to write things down,
and realized I had nothing on which to write.
The paper was all wet and soggy, and tore away
at the tip of the pen - no matter how light the touch.

-
I had capsized one too many times;
riding the sea foam to nowhere, I was
no longer sure of the memory OR the map
I'd been keeping in my head. Had I done this
all before, or was it just a creepy feeling of a
scary deja vu? I had no friends to talk with and
nothing left to do. I tried to scamper down the ropes,
but realized, as well, that they'd been removed
a long time ago. Marionette? Puppet?

-
Just what was I, and
who was pulling the strings?