This Is All Rehearsal, Baby Poem by Scott Forster

Confused, this tilted ground gives way
through disgust, through disillusion
these delusions I have given away.
You look at the pages
try to guess the chapters
then it faces a sharp re-write
and your staring over an unfamiliar city walking to a destination out of sight.

A phone call forms the fragments of another era
the pages are torn
I used to have faith a god was listening
the perfect sadness when there is no floor to fall.