Waittress

Seeing yourself in the face of the villain. All the while I thought I was, or wanted to be, the hero. The one who gets the girl. I guess I don’t even think too much of Winona Ryder anymore. I got older and she shoplifted and she can’t get a job in Hollywood to save her life, so our relationship is, for all intents and purposes, over.
I guess there’s a demon inside of every Marlon Brando, Humphrey Bogart, Leopold Bloom. I imagine they try to do the right thing despite the fact that their mother’s held them too close to her chest.
I am climbing a tree in this cold night, and the wind is blowing and I am looking down on the town without me. Jimmy Stewart. And there’s a baby being born at Athens Regional Hospital that could’ve been mine, in a different story. And people are coming home from Christmas shopping. There’s a light snow beginning to fall.
I’m going to make it back down by morning, but for tonight I just like the view. Up here where I can be anything, or nothing, and no one comes or calls or expects or thinks one way or the other. It’s good to be but not be seen for a few moments.
Sorry I didn’t live up to the billing.
Roll credits?