Made good, and not just a pretty face. She started off with a different name in a different place. She played her roles on screen but it was her private life that thrilled her public behind a scene. Yes, she drank, yes she stank – of money. Yes, she married and divorced- several times. And yes, was larger than life – of course. She had her heyday and was loved by many. She died in decline – one of life’s little crimes.
The Royal pardon said sorry for not forgiving me at all. Famous people in their prime with obituaries sold in purgatory’s mall. Meanwhile I meantime, as is habitual. Somewhere someone is really living and about to die in a dawn dual.
Stopping to pull the rug from under my feet The red-carpet envoy skips, making excuses to everyone I greet. Marooned, I recycle bottles like nobody’s business and send small deals in non-naval dress.
A piano and a Wurlitzer were playing from a field next door. A gramophone record and a wireless from a meadow across the hall. A violin and an accordion from a stream 3rd floor and a xylophone and a chiming glass from an upstairs market stall.
Typewriters tapped away, and words got scattered across sawdust moors as sheep wandered and cows grazed on living room carpets, treading the boards.