Theater Degree

The modest part you play
With no reserve, enter the fray
To save the day...
Fifteen pounds of pressure
And sacred acts of pleasure;
Ample measure
Of the sleep that will not last
Until the fading of your past
Closes fast
In contrast
To the movement blocking view,
Interested in the hue
Of wood used to build the pew
In which you sit
In the pit
With all the other raff
And learn to laugh
About the things we know are pain,
Like a crashing plane
Or rape or death
Or crack and meth
It shudders in the night;
Death rattle of delight!