Now you are dangerous, snoozing through Shakespeare.

Someone said “All the world’s a stage!”
I want to say Shakespeare but I’m terrible with quotes.
Anyway, it was written on the wall before my desk
in the English department at school.
Monday to Friday, periods 1-6 variation
I stared at those words.
All the world’s a stage,
we are merely players.
But you need a lead,
a supporting cast
the love interest and a rival.
Is it a comedy or a tragedy?
I need a genre,
who determines this?
Are we doomed to repeat typecasting
or can I still audition for the role?
Monday to Friday, periods 1-6 variation
I thought to myself if the world’s a stage
and I’m merely a player
what a dull performance this shall be.
Watch, my most wonderful audience,
as your heroine, your frantic broad,
A dame without a heart!
drops her brunette head into
trenchcoat arms to hide from hardboiled phonecalls.
A guy without a conscience! lurking beneath a fedora brim,
speaking easy through cigarette fumes,
snatching leads where and when I drop them.
But the world’s a stage and I don’t much feel like playing.
Ever watched a noir nap?
This is the picture I was born for,
but I’m not acting for nobody nomore.