Today, I work on my pretend musical, working the lyrics in my head until they’re chill, shiblywitz’ a-chukunderiz’ sonder-asunder Steven Sondheiming them with a high step routine.
My feet buckling at plan B, twisty turning, reaching back for Plan A, a floppy disc of wishful thinking, I sing out “Lordy, Lordy, save me Jesus,” Ethel-style, a from the throat sound mixing Bacall with aTara of tomorrows. God, or someone, laughing up daisies in the wings, someone always there, singing me home, “Sing out Louise, deal the cards your dealt, play more, and play some more pickeled-pinocle while your at it kid,”
(or words to that effect), I ask myself, my angels, my God, to just one more time get my back and He and his hosts do just that!
