what i most feared

in pink georgette,
the bathing belle
held my hand
at the very last moment
before the stage curtain was raised.
i heard a cry
and was so excited by the sound
i dropped my cigarette,
narrowly missing a sexy gigolo
crawling on the floor
in his swimsuit
which was little else but passing fashion.
i had difficulty getting a grip on my lines
which made it difficult for me to hear the music
and the rubber slippers made it difficult to dance.
but in the long run
my feelings for the Beau Monde
played a large part in my decision
to quit writing and pretend i had had enough.
i was seized with momentary disgust,
ran into the seated audience,
took my seat and became a pessimist.
when the curtain was raised,
i saw nothing but snobbery
doing nothing but fluttering about,
which is what i most feared in the world.