Alexandria Biamonte

He asked me why I chose to board the plane
If I was so afraid to fly.
No hesitation:
“Because my mother would
Kill me
If I didn’t.”
A pause.
I laughed.
“I mean, of course
Not,”
A joke, naturally.
It had to be.
Because if I thought I would
Die
On the plane, I couldn’t be
More Afraid
Of my own mother.

..Right?

“This doesn’t look like Broadway,”
Remarked the man
Boasting a snide grin.
And I was angry
At first,
Because it’s easy to feel
Bitter,
Working front register
At a coffee shop
In a small town,
When you once
Dreamt
Of fame and glamor
On the grand stage
In the big city.

But then I smiled,
Because I do not need
The spotlight
When I see how my lover’s eyes
Light up.
I don’t need crowds
Cheering my name
When I hear how my lover
Whispers it.
Because this is not
What I thought
I wanted.
This isn’t Broadway,
And these red hills
Don’t say
“Hollywood”,
But you can keep
Your greasepaint and glitter
Because what I have
Is better than Broadway.