Prologue

 

I shall scribble that final chapter when the characters I create freeze right there on the page from stage fright or begin forgetting their lines.  When my props cover over with dust or the timing of my sound effects slip past their mark.

There will be no interviews or book signings, no best seller list or window dressing.  Only a muffled thud as the hardcover falls closed on another writer beyond their best-by date. 

Relegated to a forgotten shelf, a collection of random thoughts and literary missteps travel to a sun-warmed driveway, where garage sale stickers dot a history of discounted poetry.  Which is – in itself, poetic.

 

 zc