"I, though I brought no fuel, had desire
With these articulate blasts to blow the fire."

To Mr.Samuel Brooke - John Donne


It was, in many ways, the opposite moth to the flame. Because I brought the heat and she was out there; floating.

I had a backstage assignment for King Lear and there she was, stage left, Cordelia, anguished. I watched both up close-(drapes for a dressing room, I saw too much) and from afar, (above the lobby looking down through three flights of stairs like it was a telescope).

I bought her the oldest copy of Lear I could find at a used book store and gave it to her at the cast party. She said we should go outside and catch the breeze. She caught it mostly, long red hair swirling.

I lose myself out there, you know ...

she was talking about the stage, but looking out over the lights of the city, distant. I know, I said but I really didn't. She smiled and wrapped her arms around me- pulling her face close to mine- It's like madness, it is. Her eyes were ablaze and I shuddered, unnerved. She smiled, squeezing the goosebumps on my arms.

You like it though, don't you? The madness?
I mumbled- I can't comprehend it.

It was all I could muster. For one night, it was sufficent.

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