"There are nearly thirteen million people in the world. None of those people is an extra. They’re all the leads of their own stories."
~Charlie Kaufman, from his film, Synecdoche, New York

Playing the lead in a haystack,
existing side-by-side in our solitary lives,
solace comes when we join these needles together —
the thread of life.

Jumping into character,
taking leave of the present world —
who wears your clothes when you sleep?

I am just a forgotten pebble —
a spark of granite daring to glint.
You see me walking down the street —
out of focus arms and legs —
a disappearing narrative.

The screens keep getting wider —
a stage full of leading ladies and leading men.
They all spin in circles —
red curtains flying.

The cleaner, unheard,
leaves all untouched except the dust.
The man attached to his phone,
alone on the airport walkway,
has a family waiting.
The actress learns her lines on a threadbare couch,
sitting on hope.
We are all One Story.

This poem appears in both The Red Drum (Lulu, 2008) and Unsung Love Songs (Lulu, 2010).
© 2008 by Cristina M. R. Norcross.
Used here with the author’s permission.