Connie Enters (Nicola Scholes)

Posted on January 19, 2011 by in Heightened Talk


So Enters Connie


with certain handicaps

like being in love

recalling campaign promises

in the year of an election

fighting wars, losing battles,

marching down aisles

or into bedrooms

prepared to go

where there is no going back


It was a role I’d never played

before I fell in love with you

I was in love with Connie

who washed occasionally

took no prisoners

who came to swing with Tarzan in a tree

tossing her merchandise

kissing you boldly

Connie, who raised the stakes,

Connie the dealer, who didn’t choose the game


you pressed me tightly before

a hundred witnesses

I closed my eyes

hid my face on your chest

you forgot your line

I whispered it to you

Thank you very much!

I smiled, broke away,

You’re welcome—very much!


Oh how I loved to play Connie

had you down on your knees

in Act 3 proposing marriage

eight times a week

and by the end of the run

I meant every word


I forgot there’s no sense

in featherweight comedies

you’re meant to swallow

with tea and bickies

when Connie



minus her face.


Now, nearly two years have passed and

you’re in my bedroom

lying on my bed

asking if I still have the script


I locate it a little too quickly

as Connie Enters


with a valise

holding my heart

and yours

(can’t remember what was really in it

to make it look heavy

probably nothing)


I tell you since then

I’ve played Claire and Ramona

and it’s only when

I’m with you that

Connie Enters

with an ultimatum

re-authoring this fiction

like there’s no tomorrow


YOU: It took a Neil Simon play

to bring us together

but the script couldn’t go on



ME: The audience has nodded off

it’s not funny any more

the lines you’ve fed me

our characters are still sipping

cocktails and mixing metaphors

in a Manhattan apartment

stuck, like a needle, in 1961