Solo Show

"The concert, last month? Oh, it was grand.

Yeah, we were there, a happy little band

of misfits, singing loud and out of tune,

beneath the pale, indifferent moon."

I painted it for Sarah, clear and bright,

a made-up scene, bathed in a false stage light.

The truth was, I bought one ticket, paid the price,

and sat there, watching, feeling cold as ice.

The crowd, a sea of arms and bouncing heads,

their laughter rising from a hundred beds

of shared delight. My pleasure was my own,

a quiet, tight-lipped, solitary groan.

I keep the stub, a number, row, and seat,

a testament to bittersweet defeat.