"Ready in five minutes," or says the
Speckled cheek girl with the koala bear bag.
It's always a brash flourescent lit room,
A mirror, and some water in a box
From Canada.
The others - some in red, some done up in
Blue and green and yellow,
(An Italian representation of the rainbow?)
Wear Versace,
And we wait
Like bulls at the rodeo,
Ready to fly out the shoot
Bucking and twisting to the
Clapping and cheers of thousands
Of crazed spectators.
Restless, we exchange short glances, a snort, a nod.
"Look at those breasts"
"What a cow"
"He's such a stud"
"Two minutes and you're on," says Miss Koala Bear.
Another shift, and we bulls mill around
In a heightened state of anxiety,
Trying not to bump each other.
Almost...
Time...
To go...
"Gao Pei Hua!"
My number is called, I start to snort,
Twitching, ready to kick.
My costume is in place.
Open the gate.
And there I am, out in the arena.
Thousands are cheering - a sea of black heads swaying
And for a moment,
The atmosphere, the elements, nature itself
Stops
As I play the opening four notes of a Chinese love song
On my saxophone.
And in that blurred passing of time
I wonder how amazing it is that standing
Four feet higher can make
A normal man famous
A normal man appear
Something he is not,
Yet must be.
And in our infinitely expanding
world of time and matter
another star is born.
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