Poem - Argyle Literary Magazine
Strangulation As Part of The Performance
https://www.theargylelitmag.com/poetry-7/strangulation-as-part-of-the-performance
We were on stage together.
It was a climatic confrontation scene.
In a play.
In L.A.
One of those little hole in the wall theaters.
People watched.
Sitting in their seats.
When suddenly,
I grabbed and turned one of the actors towards me.
He'd always had his back to me in this part of the scene
and it always bothered me.
So I decided on our last night,
I'd turn him to face me to hear my speech.
Well I got a nasty surprise.
After I turned him,
he sprang at me and grabbed my throat.
Dug his hands in deep and did his best to strangle me.
For real.
He knocked me back against a couch on stage.
I fell into it.
He was on top of me throttling just under my Adam's Apple.
The actress in the scene put her hand over her mouth in shock.
Now the audience watching this play
had no idea this wasn't part of the nightly performance,
part of the story.
This was a different story.
It was a little improv and violence mixed together.
And I did my best to try and remove his hand
from my neck, but he was much taller and stronger than I.
After awhile he stopped.
Stood up.
Then we played out the last part of the scene.
Later in the dressing room.
I looked at him and said “John, what the hell happened?”
He replied “I lost it!”
Meaning his control I guess.
Much later the director smiled when he spoke to me,
“I told you not to touch him.”
Now I realized why.
John used to be a working director in the TV industry,
but drink had taken him over.
He'd fallen on harder times.
He still played some parts once and awhile.
He also had some things in his past,
well, I never knew for sure.
But I could imagine.
I'd asked my agent to come and see the play that night.
I'd told John about her attending and I would introduce him to her.
I did.
After the play, outside, I was going to my car to drive home.
The actress was going to her car as well.
We talked.
She was still concerned about what had happened.
But she said “John has asked me out for coffee. I don't know.
Do you think I should go?”
I figured John was going to cap his aggressive triumph over me
by fucking the lead actress.
I hadn't felt confident enough to make a move.
I looked at her and answered her question.
“Why not.”
I drove home.
My throat was sore for a week.
Experience is what you get,
when you don't get what you want.