I once was the star of a play. This wasn’t a big Broadway production. It actually wasn’t even well known. It existed in the backyard of a green house, my childhood house. There were swings, an above ground pool and a shed that had steps leading up to a low nail strewn ceiling ready to impale me at any sudden moves.
So I played it safe, I made no sudden moves. At this time I already had my mask. It was given to me as a parting gift as I left the hospital on my third day of life. I never even had to add on to it. The people who surrounded me were nice enough to do it for me. I didn’t know any better. I let them. There were pink ribbons and zippers and words written upon me in the dullest of graphite.
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