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'from Tim Curry to Joshua R. Godinez'
by Josh Godinez
I used to think I had it bad,
Fans chased me down and made me sad.
They'd take my trash and conk my head,
'Til I finally left my mail unread.
Maybe I'm not a household name,
But talented and working all the same.
I'm working for my one big movie,
While doing small films, books and tv.
I thought I'd left it all behind,
No garters, fishnets, or high heels signed.
One more Rocky Con, then no more transvestite.
Out of mind, I thought, out of sight.
Then curiously a list emerged.
Interest grew, enrollment surged.
And from the shadows of the net,
My nemesis I finally met.
"Do a sequel," he calmly taunts,
Reviving ghosts and other haunts.
The others there, they understand.
I can't reanimate that man.
But who can say why passion dwells?
How emotion rises and begins to swell?
He seeks to flatter. He tries to mock.
Until it's difficult NOT to talk.
He smoothly tries comparisons,
Twist me and great old artisans.
Until a something that he has written,
Finds a chord that's finally smitten.
Curiosity inside me grows,
And sends me to New Mexico.
Fans and I sat and watched,
To see perhaps what I have touched.
A cocksure man, so young and pithy,
Overacting and much too toothy.
Still as I glance around,
I see some faces wrapt spellbound.
And sitting there in murky mists,
I can feel my nemesis.
I can see with second sight,
And realize that he is right.
It didn't help me when I ran,
I could never escape the man.
The man I was so long ago,
Now carrying weight and gathering snow.
I thought of him as another person,
Someone with whom relations worsen.
Until I quite forgot he's me,
And cast him off dismissively.
But each performance I've done last,
Reminds my nemesis of the past,
Which instigates another note,
And more resounding the chord is smote.
And that's why he's my enemy.
I know he'll never let me be,
Until I think sympathetically,
And Frank N. Furter once more is free.