The Audition

The two people waited for him to sit.
They looked as if they wanted him to ask a question, but the man who sat didn’t have one.
The man began speaking words that were written by someone else;
Words that were written in a different language:
Translated into English,
Then rewritten to mine meaning in whatever the
Writer felt hot about that day,
And so on — for many years.
The version he held in his hands:
A watered down tramp.
He looked at her, and spoke;
She looked the page, and read.
He tilted his head to let her know “I’m present.”
She missed that tilt because she was reading words off a page.
He went slower.
She went faster.
“Thank you” said the men who waited for him to sit down.
They were now waiting for him to leave.
He flipped through the three other stapled pages
In his hand thinking why he
Spent precious time memorizing water-downed dreck.

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