Award

 

    You might say, alternately
    It was just her looks and
    Manner that got her the role.
    She couldn’t act, you say,
    But I never said she could.
    I knew her so well I could act
    Around her and save the scene.

    She’d blurt whatever she thought
    And then, mouth open, listen
    To what she’d said; then look
    At me while I took her words
    Around the corner till she had
    Her thought back and smiled
    That award winning smile.

    Enigmatic, they said, like
    Garbo.  I knew that it was
    The disease, and her hiding
    It in public.  Her downcast
    Eyes made others think
    They’d said or done the
    Wrong thing. She deserved

    The award for all that --
    Like a fighter with a damaged
    Brain that fights on despite
    The dizziness and loss of focus.
    She’d start to speak then lose
    Her way, then her bright eyes
    Would finish the conversation.