Curve Ball

Each night the dream is the same, just the actors change. Sometimes in the middle of the scene. I yell cut but the only thing stopped is my part in this nocturnal show. Tonight it seems the script is changed but an all star cast runs the stage. My only job is to play audience throw the roses shout "bravo!" Standing ovation, we know how it goes. But as I go to throw sweet smelling appreciation, the ending has changed this kiss between lovers has been changed to a kiss between romantic interest and rival for everything our hero wishes to be. Woah, woah, woah I cry, they can't hear me. The kiss is too passionate to let sounds penetrate its imaginary walls. Where's our hero? Where's the star of the show? He's out back smoking and weary of doing the same performance night in night out. It was his idea, all of this was his doing and his actions have caused this uncomfortable and unwanted ending. I stand in the rows of seats, bouquet waiting to be thrown, to shower the new happy couple with petals and fill their own world in a shade of beautiful red. I drop the flowers on the floor, I walk out the door. I wake up... tonight I just know the dream will be the same again.