Inside the Glass Menagerie

Source: Toyota Stellenbosch Woordfees

The weather was cold,

my jacket made me sweat.

Clouds crumpled against the sun.

The radio started. Nothing special, son.

Men in checkered shirts walked, brutally.

In the park, evening fell. Children rushed home.

I found myself at the theater. Silent.

The Glass Menagerie.

Vivid. The perfume from the actress cracked my spirit—

like dark antique shops.

Glass reflected in shadows,

lit by the flicker of a candle.

I started thinking.

Classic. Time rushed, frankly.

Couples twisted like ivy.

I’m trying to find my address.

Then, a break.

America? Tom? Dance? Oops.

Always the megrims.

The ceiling with motifs.

I am alone. Someone is lying.

Near the end, it intensified.

People cried. The wind blew through the daisies.

I’m heading toward the Liberty Palace.

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