You want me to perform on stage
For you alone
An actress reciting lines written long ago
When you first imagined nubile girls
And felt stirrings sensual and strange
You ask for a curtain call
But the first act has not yet begun
Or even been rehearsed
I am outside this theater looking up
At its neon lights.
Wondering whether to step inside
Or run from their harsh glare
To the soft twinkling
Of country summer.
You want my ecstatic dance
To rise like a crescendo before your eyes
My limbs twisting and convulsing in
But the music has yet to play
And I am wrapped in the silence.
You want an aria, a magnum opus
A soprano hitting notes so high
As to shatter hearts.
But I am just a woman.
And can’t even sing on key.