'twas a long, nice-change-of-pace-if-academically-unproductive day of drama classes/workshops /rehearsals. yes, kind of odd. the five minutes before my eight-thirty drama class weren't wasted. entirely. well....
the thrift of tuesday theatre
– barely out of danger of monday,
words are spoken quietly.
set's only half painted
and the crisis is
more of a hasty denouement.
we thirst for tangible fictions,
but so much is reserved for friday.
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