At intermission, people buy drinks they barely finish.
Bells melodiously ring; patrons reclaim seats.
After the last act, hearty applause cues a standing ovation.
As they depart, taxis screech, revelers shout, cars honk.
Cultures clash as citizens of the city mingle.
Outside the theater, panhandlers confront people.
Some dig a dollar out; others look down and keep walking.
A limousine pulls up and the privileged pile inside,
the haunting eyes of the homeless are as noisy as coins in a cup.
The dark city streets are a dimmed stage.
Theatergoers hurriedly walk to cars along downtown streets,
homemade cardboard signs scribble messages for help.
Along the way, people exchange glances with the homeless.
Shopping carts jammed with clothes and plastic bags.
Once inside their cars the theatergoers feel comfortable.
The homeless walk the theater district like a final curtain call.
The human drama unfolding on the streets is unending,
emotions stir as night closes in.
Are the theater people so unlike the street people?
Do they share the same demons?
Pamela D. Hirte
Published by: Creative Voices