mr. silva

she walks up to me, bows down to get my attention
"Mr. Silva, do you need anything before the q&a"
My eyes paddle up, my head follows
A deflated yet trying not to be dour smile erupts
"I’m sorry, I’m not..."
My sorry is met my hers
I sit still and she goes on searching
finally spotting the the Silva she was looking for
sports coat, thick black beard, thinner than I’ve ever been
the real director is here 
my eyes plunge back down to the book
to the esc key
the irony of being mistaken for who I wanted to be
it takes a while before it becomes an amusing story