Charles Manson Gives Acting Classes

When I arrive at the class

the students are sitting in a circle,

(the chairs have seen better days).

In the middle,

scratchy looking broken jeans.

a guy is walking around around around.

Speaking

His words comeout in a long line,

like a column of ants

NowadayseveryonescrazytheyreyourchildrenIpunchedmymotherout

He seems familiar,

a faded photograph,

part of a broken memory

or

a secret whispered in the playground.

I start to feel confused,

Maybe it’s the beard the eyes the hands

I want a cigarette

I quit years ago

I feel anxious

and I want to leave.

There is an empty seat

.

.