+help me choose for my class?

I have to read something aloud from my portfolio and I have to choose between three pieces to read aloud. One's a poem, one's a short story and the last is a dramatic scene. Will you help me choose? They're all very short (1-2 pages each max) 

Poem: 

Staring at fingers  
Strumming the rhythm  
I blink.  
A breath -  
They come down  
Open and shut  
Fingers go up! - 
Don't blink. 
Stare  
Capture this moment  
Orange carpet  
Sweat and musk  
Smiles, we're happy  
Beautiful  
Breathtaking  
Don't blink. 
Oh no, missed a chord  
A single melody of laughter  
With a harmony  
But this isn't my song  
Blink blink. 
 - 
Am I crying? 
Music I will never hear  
The final chord  
One last verse - 
Too good to be true  
Blinked.  

Short story: 

The karaoke in Colorado was not to be messed with. Who knew a little bit of cheap beer could get everyone into singing bad 90's songs? This was the last stop on a world tour that had stretched from Australia, to Europe, Canada and finally the great old United States. The tours before had been amazing but since reaching platinum on the past album, "$inners", the tours hit a new level of explosive. Almost as explosive as some for the vocal diarrhea I was hearing on the stage. Then again, what could I have really expected from a crowded bar full of sweaty people and alcohol?   

We were already working on a new album. At least, Kip and I were. It was untitled so far, despite Kip's constant attempts at throwing out names.  

It wasn't for lack of inspiration. I had it. Kip had it. We were just finding inspiration in different areas. Everything I wanted to write music about were things that I was keeping a secret. The throb of my last ovary in my abdomen, the pain of going through chemo alone, the feel of losing it all and not having done enough. That's what made me want to grab my guitar and write. I wanted to write about dying. But Kip was in the prime of his life and he wanted to write about living.  

My remission hadn't lasted long enough. The doctor had called me with the results of my last appointment about a week before we were due to leave for our tour. Ever since Kip and I had been clashing heads on the material for the new album between shows.   

The shot glass in my hand suddenly felt heavy. I narrowed my eyes at the person finishing their awful rendition of a Celine Dion song, like the person before them. Across the table from me Carlos was shouting a joke over the music, Kip playing along as he raised his beer bottle up in the fifth cheers of the night. His glass clinked against Carlos' beer then Jordan's margarita glass, Leo's soda last. When he held the glass up to me I couldn't get my fingers to uncurl. 

The host for the "karaoke night" was yelling at everyone to settle down and get ready for the next performer.   

"Danny!" Kip shouted above the noise, having come around the sticky table to sit next to me, bumping my shoulder as he slid into the booth seat next to me. "Cheers!" He tried again to clink our glasses together.   

Tearing my gaze away from the stage to look at Kip I was angry to find the same form of affection I felt for him in high school. That square jawline, thin lips and droopy, puppy like gaze. Without a word to anyone I stepped onto the bench, walked over the table and hopped off on the other side to get to the floor. Before heading to the crowd I reached back for my shot glass and the salt shaker, grabbing Carlos' arm, shaking salt on it and it off before tipping back the tequila. When Carlos held out the lime I smacked it away and tore into the crowd with a purpose. 

It was time to bring some real music to this stage. 

Not one apology was made as I pushed past the people in the crowd.  

The host was still trying to amp up everyone to come on stage. "Whoever comes up gets a free shot to warm them up! Who's next? Come on! You? Yeah, you, I think it's you!" He pointed to one person in the crowd, then another, continuously met with the same shake of the head and "No! No! I can't sing! No man!"    

Jean shorts riding up my , tank top loose enough to see inside my shirt to the tattoo under my double D's, I managed to make a path to the front of the stage, shooting my hand up and giving the host a fierce stare.   

"Give it here!" I demanded, a devilish grin splitting my face open.   

I poked at the stud I had under my lip and waited for the mic to be handed down. The host helped me on stage while giving a brief intro in amazement that someone would come with so much gusto.  

Someone came up from the bar on the side and handed me a shot of vodka which I tipped back with only a mild grimace, conversing with the DJ to get the right track so I could belt out what I needed everyone to hear. 

"It's time to cry baby," I murmured to myself mostly, though the mic picked it up. 

I had never wanted to be on stage with the band, I had made that clear in high school. I was okay to shine behind the scenes in all the music production and creation, but one year. One year is all I had left. And I had to shine at least once.  

On stage, my eyes searched out Kip and the band. Finding them all on their benches, arms up, drinks spilling and hollering at me like the great friends they were.  

Kip. Why did you kiss me last week? Was it because you were drunk? Does it ever mean anything?  

Carlos. We need to stop this canoodling thing we have going on. We broke up. Let's stop ing back stage before each show.  

Leo. Keep that club soda going. Stay sober even when I die or I'll kill you again in heaven. 

And Jordan. Jordan I'm sorry. You're too good a friend and I don't deserve you. 

I could see my  reflection in the back window of the bar. Thinner. Bonier. Gray.  

Janis Joplin's soundtrack blasted loudly through the speakers around the bar, shaking the stage. Some of the younger, less musically informed people in the audience shot me speculative looks. Most everyone was too drunk to care, cheering even if they didn't know what the song was.  

"I want you to come on, come on, come on, and take it! Take another little piece of my heart now baby! Take another little piece of my heart, yeah, yeah. You know you got it, if it makes you feel good!" Foot tapping. Head bobbing. Eyes closed. 

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. One verse in and I can feel the strain on my abdomen.    

As I start the next verse I can feel the bile coating my tongue and realize that drinking while on a host of medication is not the best idea. Oh yeah, this was definitely a mistake. My eyes flick back to where the band is, still cheering and singing along.  

"You know you got it, child, if it makes you feel good."  

Okay... It's time to get off. My palms are sweaty. My knees are weak. Bad decisions, bad decisions.  

The tequila drove me to the stage but now It's driving me off. I feel the panic starting for no good reason. Calmly, I place the mic back on the stand and walk off stage. The back track continues playing and people start to boo. I ignore them and let a drunk college girl take my place on stage, wondering if her screeches will appease them as I put one hand over my mouth to keep from puking.  

Now would be a good time to have Libby here to understand that the tequila was really only part of the reason I was racing for the bathroom. I could see the door and four feet away it all came up. Tequila, bile, and blood. That's what happens when cancer spreads, I think bitterly.  

The boos get stronger as the girl fails to live up to my short performance.  

"Jesus D, you barely even drank -" Carlos is holding my hair back.  

"Damn, Danny back at it again!" Kip laughs, a couple steps behind Carlos.  

I want to tell them to leave. Don't get attached. But I throw up instead.Page Break

Scene: 

(The scene is dimly lit as if there's only a few lamps in the area. Front, stage right, there's a group of solemn adults, late 20s, holding instruments and quietly playing with their heads down. In the back, stage left, a brown worn down, cracked, leather couch. On the ground, an ugly rug bought in the 80's. A coffee table littered with take out coffee cups, beer cans and an empty pizza box stands on top of the rug. A single spotlight brightens up Danny laying down on the couch. She stares straight up to the ceiling, arms held at her sides. The spotlight continues to follow only her every time she moves.)  

Danny: (Sits up on the couch, rubbing her eyes and looking around the room. Stands up slowly, the spotlight following her as she takes a few steps away from the couch.)  

Carlos: (Playing the bass.) I think we should change that E flat chord to an A minor. For the guitar; it'll flow better.  

Jordan: (Leans an arm over her guitar, and nods pensively). Yeah I agree. Feels right.  

Kip: (Continues to play his guitar as if he hasn't heard anything, angrily strumming.)  

Danny: (Laughs and walks around the table to the group with her arms crossed.) You're going to break your guitar if you keep playing it like that.   

(No one in the room looks at her or responds.)  

Jordan: Kip? 

Kip: What?! What do you want?! Do whatever the you want. I'm not your dad.  

Danny: Hey, don't be a . The chord works.  

(No one looks at Danny.)  

Danny: Okay, I'm over this whole "ignore Danny" thing. (Walks towards her guitar near backstage.) I mean, I know I'm not "in the band" but y'all are called Danny's Rhapsody sooo.... (Tries to pick up the guitar but her hand is repelled like they're two opposite magnets, tripping her up.)  

(Jordan confirms quietly with Carlos and Leo and they start playing again, like nothing happened with Danny.) 

Kip: (Abruptly stops playing and shoves his guitar onto the rack, missing so the guitar falls to the floor.) No.  that. That chord change is . We're not using it.  

Carlos: Relax bro. 

Kip: No. you and your chord. (Goes to pick up his guitar and changes his mind, kicking it instead.) You know what Carlos, the song's all yours now. Congratu-ing-lations.   

Danny: (Staring at her guitar, then at Kip's, racing over to pick it up only to find the same repelling force.)  

Carlos: What's your problem man?  

Jordan: Kip, go get some fresh air or something, you're just over tired. (Stands off her stool and places a hand on Kip's arm.)  

Leo: Bro.... (Tucks his drumsticks into his boot and stands up.) 

Kip: (Pushes away Jordan and kicks the stool he'd been sitting on.)  you!  

Danny: HEY! (Tries to grab Kip to pull him back and finds herself repelling like with the guitar.)  

(No one looks at Danny.)  

Jordan: (Places her guitar down.) Kip, you're being -  

Kip:  you! you! Danny – Danny is ing dying and all you guys care about are - are whether we should change the E flat chord to the E major chord.  

Carlos: E minor chord.  

Kip: I don't ing care what chord it is! She's dying! She's dying and we're sitting in this basement! Eating pizza and drinking beer like everything's okay? Like she shouldn't be here with us writing the goddamn lyrics and telling us what chords work and don't work?!  

Danny: (Comes around to face Kip, trying to hold on to his arms but can't.) What is wrong with you? I'm right here. I'm not dying.  

(No one looks at Danny.)  

Jordan: Kip. We all agreed to this. We can't.... We can't stay there like she's already dead.   

Kip: She might as well be dead with the way we're ing treating her - but no, here we are, changing all the ing chords! (Picks up the stool and throws it across the stage.) Danny's losing her life but you know what, it's ing chill because we're gonna lose a chord and that cancels out right?!  

Jordan: Kip! That's enough!  

Carlos: What the man! (Picks up the stool.) 

Leo: (Positions himself slightly in front of Jordan, in front of Kip.)  

Danny: (Runs towards Kip.) Um, hello? What's your deal?! (Waves her hands in front of Kip, leaning to look into his face.)   

(No one looks at Danny.)  

Kip: (Sobbing as he picks up a beer can from the floor and throws it.) She should have us there with her - (Throws another beer can.) I should be there! (Throws the pizza box.) None of you ing care -(Continues to throw whatever he can find as he screams, getting less and less energetic.) Our name is Danny's ing Rhapsody. I should be there for her. I should be there for her. I should have been there for her...  

Danny: (Trying desperately to touch Kip.) What are you talking about? I'm right here!  

(Spotlight flickers.)  

(No one looks at Danny. No one speaks as they stare anywhere but at Kip, all in various stages of emotion.)  

Kip: I shouldn't have made her wait. I should have - (Sinks to his knees and weakly throws the beer can in his hand. He collapses to all fours and sobs.) 

Danny: Okay - this game can stop now! I'm here. Hello! Olly olly oxen or – Kip... (Waves her hands above her head. Her own protests getting weaker and weaker. Danny also sinks to all fours with her hands hovering above Kip's.) I'm here. 

(No one looks at Danny. The spotlight flickers more violently.) 

Danny: Kip... Answer... 

(The spotlight starts to fade away as the telephone rings. Jordan kneels next to Kip while Carlos stands next to Leo, arms crossed and staring at Danny's guitar tearfully. Leo has his back to the crowd. The phone continues to ring in the background until the answering machine picks up. A voice is faintly heard around the room.)  

Libby: Hey Leo. I know it's late. But uh... A-are you home? I tried to get a hold of the other's but they're... They're uh, not answering. But uh, it's... It's Danny. She's... Danny.  

(Spotlights light up everyone on stage except Danny and they all walk off stage at their own pace.)