Red carpet. Crimson line. Flash like thunder. Cold and bright. We learn the names. We learn the dress. We learn to call it “important”. Gold thread. For one new night. A perfect cut. A perfect light. Somewhere a kitchen counts its coins. Small prayers. No applause. We don’t ask the cost. We don’t ask the hands. We just watch the walk. We just watch the walk. Look at the shine. Look at the crown. Look how we kneel when the cameras come down. Raise the glass. Lower the truth. Smile for the photo. Swallow the proof. New dress. New angle. New face. New line. A child eats what’s left of “later”. A parent says: “We’re fine.” We argue sleeves. We rank the skin. We call it news. We call it “win”. Meanwhile the quiet bill comes due. And we look away. Feed them! Not the show! We look away! We call it “class”! Look at the shine. Look at the crown. Look how we kneel when the cameras come down. Raise the glass. Lower the truth. Smile for the photo. Swallow the proof. The carpet ends. The hunger doesn’t.
