Show Night

You're jittery, you're glittery, your hair's been sprayed so hard you could crack it with a hammer. You put on your costume, apply just one more layer of mascara, and then...

You wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Song after song after song until you think you'll go crazy. Finally, they call you on deck. You wait in the wings, fidgeting with the sequin on your skirt because you just CAN'T stand still. You crack your toes,  relevé and then come down, half paying attention to the dance going on onstage, half trying to remember what the heck you're supposed to do when you get out there. The lights go down, the audience cheers, and you run onstage.

Then

SNAP!

It's over.

You dash offstage, running frantically past people and trying not to run anyone over.

             "Make a hole!" you yell, stripping off your costume even though you're not even close to the dressing room yet.

You make it to the dressing room, half naked, attempting to find your next costume. "One song change, one song change" repeats over and over in your head. You drop something, put your costume on backwards, lose your shoe. You let out a very creative profanity. You shove a tiara on your head and hop on one foot as you put a shoe on the other. You run on deck just in time and, with no time to breathe, perform another two minute forty-eight second song.

            And somehow-though you're so tired you feel like you're going to puke and you could swear the floor's moving- it's worth it.

            It's worth it because your family is in the audience cheering for you. It's worth it as your best friend hands you your water bottle and gives you a hug even though you're dripping with sweat. It's worth it, because for two minutes and forty-eight seconds,

You lived



(P.S. It's not exactly a poem, but I love it.)