Famed

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We were in the service of the man
Hired minimum wage
Casting a show, Broadway-bound
He could do no wrong I thought
Famous playwright, a literary light
My idol since I was just a boy
But then
She came to me in tears
Some underling it seems
Had asked her—for him
Whether she would go out
“But I’m married.”
She said.
“Yes, but he wants to know
Will you go out? ”
The lackey replied with some
Embarrassment.

Funny, I didn’t feel so bad
The next time that celebrated man
Looked through me
Without acknowledging my “Hello.”

(Previously published in Aabye’s Baby, Nov 2000)

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