Lurking in the wings may be somebody else.
Not the recognized performer out in front
with his lines all written for him scene by scene, and every inflection, gesture, stance rehearsed to promote (to a last nuance) the latest
and most glitteringly chic of hits.
But somebody else:
not listed at all.
who urgently, inchoately from where he's hid may be trying
in a muffled voice to cry
``But this isn't it!''
This isn't what in the least is meant!''
If he were somehow
to get himself out: if he were to bolt on to the lighted stage and blurt aloud
whatever it is -
O mercy upon us!
How a whole house (from gallery to stalls) might be shaken - shaken! - as if by a quake.
audience so classily in the know
to what Awesome News
suddenly be exposed?