One day
In a television studio in New York
A woman barked, growled
At everything, everybody.
Missed your cue!
The camera's late!
My mike's not on!
My makeup's shoddy!
Somehow, something or someone
Had pricked a small but clean hole
In the bottom of her usually brimming bowl
Of confidence.
Her head buzzed.
What's the point?
Learn the lines.
What am I doing?
Read the script.
The years and years—
You've made it, you're rich.
--Of doing what?
Just concentrate.
It makes no sense-
No sense.