Lament of a Failed Ingenue

Sexual
Sexual

That was the singular typecast term
my college professor produced as the
foremost descriptor of me.
Of me!

Sexual- of , related to, or characterized by sex and sexuality

and other definitions found via the service of dictionary.com.

But hadn't I the bounce of a cartoon character

and the naïveté of the Childlike Empress?
No matter.
A casting director can only see
one factor at a time
(they're not multi-taskers)
and yours is this.

Sexual! I thought
And what a one-trick pony was that?
I hadn't realized my 2nd chakra
was so overextended.
Perhaps Stage Speech and Movement
could help relocate it?

But a leopard cannot trade spots and

I soon found evidence on the casting board
(always a prostitute, child, or prostitute child-
because there is always something discourteous about
the innocence of a child portrayed on the dramatic stage)
And dramas, uninvited,
sprung up around me like wild roses, untamed.

But why oh why couldn't I have been born an ingenue?
(A boring card but safe!)
to delay condemnation for being a
harlot
a tart
a taffety punk.

Or as Robin Williams said last week,
"Why would God make me a Tiger,
if he was going to condemn me for eating meat?!"

Because Sexual is true.

Iwanttoneedtogottahavetotouchtoseetounderstand by experience by laying down on grass and caressing blades
between each finger by understanding the pulses of other artists and dissecting souls by their tastes.

And to have the freedom to do so is the ultimate freedom-
The ultimate winging of the spirit to wander and grow, untamed.

Sexual
is just beyond tamed
and almost never castable.