Our Presenter for the Evening

Somewhere 

in the recesses 

of my mind 

I know the truth. 

I am not the person 

everyone sees. 

I am the presenter 

for the evening. 

I put on a good show. 

It’s good enough 

for numerous callback engagements. 

It is masterfully crafted 

with practiced dialogue. 

Just the right words 

at just the right time 

with just the right intonation 

and nuance. 

It is a carefully contrived act 

of self-preservation 

in a play of life. 

I accept the accolades 

and collect my rewards. 

They sit, collecting dust, 

on a shelf of memories. 

I reprise the role for fans. 

I play the part 

and say the lines. 

I am the actor 

and director. 

From stage left, I watch, 

studying the audience’s reactions. 

From stage right, I watch, 

looking for flaws in the performance. 

Another successful performance 

in another successful production. 

The actor retires 

to his dressing room. 

The costume 

is returned 

to the rack. 

The makeup 

is washed away. 

Where once stood 

the presenter for the evening 

now stands a tired smaller version. 

One always strives 

to become the role, 

to be popular, 

to be loved, 

to be true. 

But—  

I still know the truth. 

“The award for best actor 

in a life series goes to …” 

Oh. Someone else. 

Maybe next year. 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

October 9, 2026