Today's poem is by David O'Connell

Seeing the famous, our desire for fame

Seeing the famous, our desire for fame
flares up: match/gas. We are so lonely.
This is the reason we dream of soirées

of the famous, long for the static electricity
of rubbed shoulders, the struck tuning fork
of ice in crystal tumblers punctuating

the anecdote of an ingenue—empty calories,
intoxicating. Seeing the famous, our desire
to make it through this life widens

like a curtain on a minimalist set: one chair,
a table, one lamp. We know enough
to expect an intermission. A cigarette

can be an island in the Pacific. A drink
can be a drink. It's then, with our companions,
that we discuss the famous of film &

television we've seen onstage. Go,
warm your hands over the little conversations
concerning the famous, the famous,

like love, a universal language. It's clear
they have something. What is it? I'm asking you
who, seeing the famous, think autograph

but act insouciant. Yes, yes. At the next
table. Did you see them? Tell us
about the time. It's passing so quickly.

Copyright © 2017 David O'Connell All rights reserved
from The Cincinnati Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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