Sarah – SST9 Auditorium Final Draft

6 Jul

Sorry it’s a little late, had something ready an hour ago but wasn’t 100% with it so I spent another hour on it and I’m confident with this as my polished version.

Not sure on tech, looking for some advice from Afrah (or if anyone else has ideas too). I want to keep my part simple, but would like to experiment with lighting, backdrops and potentially costume.

My Parents’ Shoes

At 14, at the foot of the ghost train,
I thought with my legs,
swaggered past the astro-turf,
thought with my belly,

guzzled waffles with friends.
They’d skived a netball tournament.
I escaped the carnival.
I was untouchable.

Hidden from ghosts and collapsed big tops,
hidden from elections and the worries
of my mum’s future employment,
I could drip syrup and nose dive ice cream.

The ferris wheel always turns.
My parents spun plates serving new jokes,
cheaper prices and brighter noses.
Right then, the circus beat the carnival.

News danced from the carnival
that the ghost train broke down
but cheers were stifled by floats

rolling in the streets. Carnies
caught customers with candy floss,
faster rides round the waltzer,
bigger teddy bears as prizes.

Humans haunt ghost trains.
Humans play recorded cackles on loop.
Humans pocket change under blinking lights,
make you shudder in the darkness.

Circus freaks topple so you’ll be tickled.
Wear red noses so they are clowns
instead of your empty pockets.
My parents wear oversized shoes
hoping one day we’ll have big enough feet.

At uni face paint sticks in scraps
on my eyes as I wash off election
results. I see customers hug pockets

without change, tickets spent
on vomit from the waltzer,
from too much candy floss.
Teddy bears super-glued to stalls.

I think with my arms,
scribble in paper scraps stained
with face paint, slip ‘roll up,
roll up’ in seminars, watch

the trapeze in my bank account,
nurse a cocktail, in bars, with friends.
I’m not untouchable.

Not now, not at 14, guzzling waffles.
Friends hummed circus jingles, heckled
carnies delivering flyers.
I never escaped the carnival.

Maybe I’ll run away from the circus,
greet you with a poem as ring master.
My blood spins plates,
I inherited a red nose,

Teddy bears will stay super-glued to stalls.
So shove that cream pie in my face.
I’ll try to fill oversized shoes.

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