Useless Progression

This is the beginning.

i. The house lights are dimmed,
And the audience whispers in hushed tones;
All eyes are an the empty, dark stage…
Waiting.

ii. A woman walks to her burgundy Pontiac in the parking lot,
Unlocks the door, and gets in.
Key in ignition, engine rumbles, motion begins.

iii. You walked up the cobblestone street
Wheeling your bike beside you and
Now I wished I hadn’t
Spent so much of my life without you.

This is the middle.

i. Sets have been changed, curtains closed and opened.
Funny how the main character has been accused of murder,
Because I can see the victim standing in the wing of the stage,
Resurrected after being dragged off.

ii. The wheels are rolling, and the windows are down.
Woman’s hand is tapping on the side of the car to the beat of
Phil Collins on the radio.
Looking at herself in the rear view mirror, she sees what she’s become.

iii. I’m lying next to you with my head on your chest and
My hand in yours. The sun burns the back of my neck and shoulders, but
I try to ignore the obvious.

This is the end.

i. The curtain fell.
ii. The woman got home safely.
iii. You tell me.