The Escapist

She knows where she is
going. She's been gone
there for awhile.

Mind a magician, the Houdini
of daydreaming, maybe
you know her, maybe

you are her
now. Was it decades ago,
or are you all grown up?

One story after another, picklocked
to let you in, a refuge,
a last gasp for air.

Do you remember? Then
you've seen her,
seat to stage. Maybe

a hand raised. Maybe
you helped tie the rope,
wrap the chains.

Maybe you held the axe,
to salvage her, should the worst come
to pass. You know where

this is going, palms pressed
against the glass. That last gasp
for air is calling.

The Escapist

The show must go...

You know.
She knows.

The show must go on.