THE PARTY SCENE IN ALL ABOUT EVE All these sophisticated and/or glamorous people and I’m forcing a smile while worried about dahlia tubers that I dug up in November. Most didn’t make it. Bette Davis, in a bad mood, stalks in not two feet away from me. Bette Davis! We’re supposed to call her Miss Davis. This is my chance but my tongue crawls into a drawer and pulls it shut. She doesn’t recognize me. Why should she? I’m a walk-on, just like in real life. I’m who people call when message boxes fill up. I gravitate to Thelma Ritter, but she goes upstairs to find a coat. Tubers wait for me, the few with eyes. I sneak out the back door, see Jupiter, a huge Spartacus dahlia, red but out of reach. Ken Pobo
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