A Poor Player

Nefarious witch
of the upper west side,
pretentious, nasty, mean
without meaning, fueled by
long nights talking surrealistic
theater and all the gobbledygook
your mother fed you on plastic
China. Please, pass a fork.
I will eat shit, but remember
you are neither actor nor artist. You
are a seamstress, a bitter bitch
in the basement stitching costumes
for opening night. The players will strut
and fret their time upon the stage.
What will you do?
Marry a man from Wisconsin?