The Banzai Chronicles

Once Menelaus,
now Paris.
All depends on the Helen, I suppose.

Cassandra carries her torch,
waving madly toward the future.
None heed her.
I carried my torch as well.

This stage
walked before,
sandal strap slipping
awkwardly down my leg.

I thought it a play of single act,
never accounting for encore or
command performance.

Must a thousand
ships be launched?
Deus ex machina, anyone?

I have forgotten my lines.