Once had been vaudeville showplace.
D.W. had staged a blizzard there.
Opened the back doors behind the stage.
Let it blow in.
would have drawn birds
as to a winter feeder.
Plaid suit jacket.
Greased back uncut male-pattern balding.
He had a thing for the candy girl –
she wasn’t buying.
Walk through subterranean catacomb
past dressing rooms
filled with moldering treasure:
Onto the stage to open curtain.
Up to the projection room
to learn the tells.
Back again to close after credits.
begets forgettable Western
degenerates to Massage Parlor something.
Into owner’s lair
interrupting abortive attempt at slap and tickle
offering up my twenty-minute notice.
I learned how easy it is to exchange
one mistake job for another.
dVerse – Poets Pub Poetics: Even Monkeys Fall from Trees
CC has us fessing up to a mistake (ours or another’s) and how it all ended up golden (my paraphrase). Come join us and spill the dirt; you never know what will take root.