laughingstock theater (rev 1)

ACT I. AN UNFORTUNATE ACCIDENT BROUGHT US HERE
From the memoirs of a flooded river, I steal the words that mean death and drown all the lovers who broke my heart. Suddenly my life is pilfered by a dramatic production of itself. I walk through my front door and find that my house has been remodeled into a minimalist theater by a crew of aphasic postmodernists. The script is etched on the insides of thousands of light bulbs pulverized on the stage by unruly set decorators. The plot coughs nervously from the wings.

ACT II. ANY EXPLOSION BIRTHS A NEW LANGUAGE
You are spectral, adding to the unique spectacle, and you split my spine with one word, and a look, and then a look away. You told me that appearing breathless was a sure way to win your heart, but I don’t want your heart, I want your monosyllables, those murmurings that you let fall to the floor and I collect and order into sentences about how much you love me. What do you think all my kneeling’s about? If I did not make myself so laughable, maybe I could stand up now, and, with uncharacteristic directness, disappear into a hasty generalization.

INTERMISSION
I’m not drunk but maybe I should be.

ACT III. NOTHING CAN EVER BE SAID ALOUD
Then, in an act of existential nostalgia, night falls. The theater abruptly goes dark, and the red glow of the EXIT signs trails across our faces. The silver moon hangs on a black cord, discothequeing our dreamland. I sugar the plastic trees for moths; fireflies flash their arcane conversations. The telephone semaphores its voicemail.

ACT IV. A BIG MESS LEAVES US HERE
Day breaks. The sky above is flood-lit with blue. The breakfast table is laid with a cool lake. I try to sneak out of my life at last, but my shaky hands blur the map. Did you whisper stay awhile? Or was it weigh your lies? I cannot even go back to bed, the bed hops and hops like it’s jumping rope. Why not let exorcisms burn in the sun with the rest of us? The lake on the table is gin-clear and glinting. This is no kind of conclusion. I can’t turn away from you. Give me your hands so you can’t wave goodbye.