Aldo, Thespian Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

I am Aldo
I am a thespian
That is what I am
I've been doomed
To stay on the stage
Forever acting my familiar roles:
Tragedy, wise one
Shrew, martyr
And of course, my best one – Hamlet.

Not even Gielgud did it better.
Why, you ask?
It's quite simple, my friend.

For you see, I am not a mortal
As all of you sitting in the
Burgundy velvet chairs
In the first row.

Nor am I mortal
As the hordes with discount tickets
On the balcony.

I am doomed to sit on Mount Olympus
Looking to mortals like a dusty stage.
My ambrosia? The applause, the rave reviews
The orchids, the Mumm champagne.

You will not see me when the paparazzi leave
The fans and press go off with sizzling news
They will tell their children of the day
They saw the great Aldo.

I will never tell you of the agony and rage
Flung against the Doric columns of my lofty peak
I will not tell you I would almost give
My godly fortress for just one, just one
Touch of a human hand.

I will not tell you of my cowardice
No, I am too great of an actor for that.
My cowardice to never have a flop on stage
To never feel the healing splat of a tomato on my
Hallowed head.

Alas, poor Yorick, how I often wish
I was another skull on earth.
Oh, how I wish I could blend with that dark earth
And never, never see another orchid again.