my heart belongs to new york –

not the city nor the peoples,

not the culture nor the streets,

so I suppose it would be more accurate to say

(as cliché as it is)

that my heart belongs to broadway.

it belongs to the rehearsal room,

to the crowded tour bus,

to the cramped dressing rooms,

to the hours of work.

it belongs to the scratched stage,

to the hoarse throat

and aching limbs,

to the boiling white lights

and the break-out-inducing greasepaint.

it belongs to song and dance,

to composer and lyricist,

to director and choreographer,

to producer.

my heart belongs to the act of acting –

and the theatre is all my heart.