The Playwright's Audience
The other day I met my audience
In a dusty street
He gripped a pneumatic drill in his fists.
For a second he looked up. Rapidly I set up my theatre
Between the houses. He
In the pub
I met him again. He was standing at the bar.
Grimy with sweat, he was drinking. In his fist
A thick sandwich. Rapidly I set up my theatre. He
I brought it off again. Outside the station
With brass bands and rifle butts I saw him
Being herded off to war.
In the midst of the crowd
I set up my theatre. Over his shoulder
He looked back
From The Messingkauf Dialogues by Bertolt Brecht