cabaret, now

steve, the dresser, now, singing cabaret with hilarious jazz-hands when i come into the drug room for cabaret after “i don’t care much”
drinking water while looking at tommy sitting near the stage right entrance, ready to darn his fake socks
matt’s howls, how they make me cry, how i can make it crawl into my voice and how it ties everything together
sex bruises
the waiters at café pamplona down the street, bean salad, gazpacho, the air conditioner by the back seat where i sit, write, and think
remo and tommy, how they look at each other and master-act, the eyes of the audience as the lose themselves in romance
fake cigarette powder and how you shouldn’t inhale it
don’t eat the confetti, it’s been fire-proofed, it therefore tastes like ass
rosie’s tits and the nipple tape that shreds them
the sky outside, ready to collapse
jordy as helga’s tits and her pacifier, feeding her doll gin, and making her laugh and cry
the look on matt’s face when i give him his microphone
the toupee tape that keeps my hitler-mustache on, and the struggle to keep in on my finger before i need it
guy refusing to put anything dirty in his mouth, but dealing
the gas confetti laying on the floor in the spotlight
the bartenders, lost and nervously laughing
circling up
frenchie and his chest hair growing in
the star of david on the bag going over renee’s face
annikha and her terrified expression when i rip her shirts off, the gasp, the petrified reactions, the compliance
getting my gown to fall over the lip, making arm space, turning slowly enough
the light, the light, the light
the sound of the train
letting go
the smirk, the degree, the artifice
the cane, the power, the sickness
the beautiful sentimentality versus the horrifying reality
falling legs
claire as kost, breaking down in my arms, the heroin needle, the collapsing, the pathetic gazes
jeremy as my hero, presiding as he who’s seen it all, in this theater and out
the falling snow, the taste of it on my tongue, the gas chambers, the hissing sound of gas, the blinding light
touching lance between call times, knowing we share the love of this moment
watching bogart give notes to the tech crew, knowing he is doing what he is built to do
feeling home
crying at last
because i can

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