After a sword-fighting lesson with Boudica,
it’s time for a brief lunch before play
rehearsal with Shakespeare.
I grab a plate of food, made by Julia Child
and take a seat between Jonathan Larson
and River Phoenix, leaning forward
to hear Oscar Wilde’s latest idea for his
Johnny and June Cash are working on a song
at one end of the table while John Ritter and
Don Knotts are sharing ‘Three’s Company’
jokes at the other end.
“Look, a distraction!” I shout, trying to sneak
a bite of River’s pie. He rolls his eyes and fends
off my wandering fork with his own. Since I
don’t want a stab wound to explain to Mary Rapp,
the nurse, I pout and turn to watch Aaliyah
choreographing the chorus members for our
production of Mister.
I tilt my head and try to read Emily Dickinson’s
new poem upside down from my position across
the table. She blocks my attempt by crouching
over her open notebook.
As I head for the theater, I see Al Capone losing
a poker game to a very smug Katherine Hepburn.
Minnie Pearl gives me a “HowDEE!” as I pass her.
I enter the stage door, where Jerry Orbach and Fred
Astaire are running through a tap dance number.
It’s just another day in paradise.