It’s Like Singing In The Shower

Anxiety.
Trembling hands fumble the
microphone.
Just pretend everyone is naked, they
say.

Step into a sprinkle
of
shouts,
cheers shower
as multicolored halogen
spotlights splash
on the faces of the band.
The cotton
throat is quenched:
One,Two, Three, Four.
Fluid
melodies steal the show
as lyrics make the getaway
to
sudden silence.

Where did the glamour
go?
And courage-inducing cameras?
The over-generous
girls?
All slipped away,
down the
drain,
gripping too tightly
on the bar of
soap.