Piecing together enough of the essential elements to create a 
peaceful environment conducive to enjoying the proceedings at hand.  
The big show.  A vantage point designed for optimal viewing -- don't 
want to miss a beat when they bring down the house.  And you know 
it's coming down...

And you'll want to be there.  To gather a few of those souvenirs.  
Displaying an allegiance best left to its own devices.  At least 
for tonight.  For the level-headed conjurers.  Taking tips from 
the corner brigade...the star-struck faithful gathered around the 
recently lit garbage can fire.  

A lifetime of folly can attest to its own sense of dignity.

Putting to rest the calm nobility that graces your dubious entrance.
Trumpets and choir singers all chiming in and hitting a secret tone, 
making a silent announcement and bracing the crowd...looking a bit on 
edge all of a sudden.  Maybe they've just been standing in place for 
too long.  Like mannequins in some charming resort-community store 
window -- all with that frozen look of worried happiness, smiling 
for reasons that never existed...all dressed up and nowhere to go.

Matters of the heart are sticking to the basics.  None of those 
wildly expressive displays of affection around here.  And they simply 
will not allow any the jazz rhythms that require a certain realized 
effort to groove to.  Sizzling tunes.  Outlawed way back when.  
Just check the town charter if you need any corroborating evidence.  
It's all there...in black and white.  Right below the part covering 
acceptable dance hall behavior -- you can clap to your heart's 
content but we'd better not catch you moving them feet to wildly,
and keep those hips steady.  

Feeling part of a larger, far less serious comedy of errors.  
The ambient sounds seeping through the floor boards.  Streetcar 
bells and a complacent murmur filling the empty spaces between 
curtain movements.  Feeling your rhythm and setting the stage.  
Dropping down a scale as the players begin their warm-up routines.  
It's all part of the show -- the acts are just good excuses to 
turn out the lights for a while and keep people seated quietly.  
And don't get me started on the curtain calls. 

Sticking to the fringe...taking notes and bows.  Hitting your 
mark a beat too late.  Throwing all the ingenues off.  Slipping 
on their make-up.  Falling to the stage with a graceful thud.  
Reminding themselves of the virtues of patience, waiting for their 
big shot...that audition that promises to break something wide 
open.  The wound that will never heal.  

Spending your future on an afterthought.  Forgetting your manners. 
Taking the big leap into precision maneuvers...all laid out in 
carefully chosen and pre-laid out steps.  Leading you right into 
that orchestra pit.  Cymbals crashing and legs a-flying.  And that 
audience whooping it up.  

Who says Vaudeville is dead?