Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Oh Oscar

Last night I watched the dribble.
The parade of chiffon and lace.
The golden tears of sincerity languished on listeners
too numb to care.
There were the famous and the longing to be famous.
The talented and the mediocre.
The broken and the botoxed.
They were all there,
polished and painted and perfected.
When I was little I wanted to be a part of all of that.
I thought it was glamorous.
The red carpet.
The photographers with their flashing light bulbs.
The limousines and champagne.
The fans screaming my name.
For years I dreamed of my acceptance speech.
What I would say,
and who I would destroy
in those brief thirty seconds.
Watching it last night,
it all felt empty,
like stealing broken cookies,
or downing Starbucks’ samples.
Sure, they’re sweet for a few moments,
but afterwards,
they leave me feeling sick.