A Brief Sonata

Was what I thought it would be
Words escape me, brilliant fleeting things -
They carry me as fast as
You were that day, catching me,
Snatching the pipe from my hand,
Where were my friends, Bravado and High,
To cart me off to the next room?
They were hiding, under chairs,
Afraid of what they had seen;
A teenage rebel who had shamed her father
In his own place of worship.

I walked into my past tonight,
And it was the same as I thought
It would be, different, yet
So much the same, except for the walls -
They were painted a dark brown
That you would not have approved of.
They kept the office, the studios,
Bathrooms were untouched - the same stall
Where I caught Kerry pissing in the women's toilet,
He was too much in a hurry,
Toilet paper stuck to his Converse.
The same, down to the fucking tiles,
Right down to the payphone in the same spot,
They couldn't think of anything better, Dad,
They couldn't have made it any better if they tried.

The theatre was changed, only in the seats;
One clustered clump of a mess
So different than the kind middle aisle
From which I used to sit across from you
And mimic your every movement.
A girl, one of a million,
Took my ticket, and I remembered
Actors who were then idols,
Ushered in to see works performed
Directed by you.

If I could,
I would go back to where you began
Your dream of a theatre,
The reality of what was momumental for so many
Lives made better by what you did;
I would give you the choice, again,
To go or stay.
Either way, I would find a way
To make sure that they remember.