Storytelling, live theater, real life reflected via fleshy-boned vessels with spirits,
genetic memory, heart-humbled mostly, soul walking, purposely positioned
to edu-tain, irritate, stir-up, trigger that very thing
that makes us vulnerable when we want to be hard-core gangstas
or confused when the stranger sitting near us in the cafe unloads a gesture of love,
a formula defined as song or dance or poem or stare...
we're so uncomfortable that instead of waiting for intermission to make a camouflaged exit,
we abruptly stand up, knocking over chairs that spill onto the stage,
barely missing the already injured-one in our horizon-lined view
and proceed in yelling, at the top of our lungs no less, FIRE, FIRE, FIRE
while simultaneously hopping like a rabbit on one leg
and throwing rose petals in the four corners of the room...accomplished mayhem...and curtain
by Shonnese C.L. Coleman
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