Synecdoche, New York
When you meet
the man
the man
you hired
to play you
hired to play “you” –
when you meet
the man
who’s been hired
to play
the man
who was hired
to play you –
it isn’t like looking
into a mirror—
one face seen, one constrained face
straining to be seen—
like a field
of dish antennae,
noses to the sky,
awaiting a message from home—
but it prompts the question,
just how good are you
in the role of you?
How convincing? How real?
Do people buy it,
the act, the day-in
day-out performance,
the ceaseless presentation
of self? Or do they see
through you, through to
the actor beneath,
the agent lurking
behind the screen,
the homunculus in
his cockpit, joystick
in hand, enjoying
the ride, inhabiting
the hell out of the role,
giving the performance
of his life?
