February 6th - Conversation Piece
Conversation Piece
“It can’t be over.” (exasperated) “We haven’t got it right yet. We can stop trying when it’s perfect.”
“You don’t inspire that. Not everything has a satisfactory end.”
“Why?”
“You’re being childish. That’s just the way it is.”
“How is that not childish, and what is a satisfying end? That’s an oxymoron.”
“You’re being cheesy.”
“Please, don’t be dismissive.”
“But that’s the point of this. I’m releasing you from our deal.”
“Some of those promises were mine y’know? Shouldn’t that be up to me too?”
“Of course not. Observe the truth: nothing is perfect.”
“You are literally on fire.”
“I will go out. Nothing burns forever.”
“Yes, but why?”
“You’re acting like a child, asking the same simple question and not accepting that you don’t get to understand. There’s more than one person here.”
“Does there hafta be? I mean, I really mean that. I believe that’s possible.”
Lighting a match and tenderly holding it.
“Stop it. You’re teasing. You know, you are also acting like a child, stomping your feet impatiently and plugging your fucking ears!”
“Do you think I’ll hear better if you yell?”
“God Dammit! Ok, sorry. Awww… ok. Sorry.”
Staring at the wall.
“Your stubborn refusal to have this conversation is childish.”
“I don’t need it.”
“What if I do?”
“You think you can win something here.”
“Understanding! I just want to understand.”
“But you can’t.”
“You’ve gone out.”
“Have I? I still smolder.”
“I feel like you belittle me so that I will drop it, but this is important.”
“Where did you learn to talk like that? It’s terrible.”
Ignoring the last question with a shake of the head. “Should I light you again? I have matches.”
“No, not that, the other thing.”
“Oh that. Here.”
“Better?”
“Absolutely. Thank you.” Pausing… ”Now listen, whether it is important or not doesn’t enter into it. It is over.”
“Its importance should give it consideration. More time and energy.”
“What would you have us do?”
“Fake it till we make it. Your fire is totally out now. Oh wait, just blow on it.”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
“It’s the only way it does work.”
“You’re being nasty and your face is wooden. I need more. I need touch.”
Start hugging. She starts on fire again.
“That’s not what I meant, though that’s nice.”
“Then you will have to move.”
“You know I can not. My feet are buried in these stones. I can’t even lift my legs.”
“You’re going out again.”
“I knew it wouldn’t last. Diminishing returns and all that.”
“I can move.”
“Then go already.”
“I don’t remember where to go. I’ve been here so long.” Begins crying.
“That isn’t going to help. Besides, you’ll find your way. Now, go already!”
“Did you ever figure you weren’t meant to move except to fall and fall through your imagination?”
“How could you say such things?”
“I think it’s a beautiful thought.”
“But you’re not in control of the scene.”
“I don’t want to be. I just want to collect things, have my memories.”
“You don’t know what you need. Try being on fire with your feet encased in stone. There’s no disconnect. There’s nothing else.”
“Ok, here are my matches.” Hands them over.
Lighting one and holding it out. “I knew it. It’s not gonna work. You’re too damp.”
“I wonder if I will ever dry out sufficiently.”
“I do not think it’s in your nature. I think you should try standing again. You always talk about how you can move.”
“Harrrrrrr…” (with great effort) “It’s no use!”
“Let’s be still then.”
“But then I’ll forget again.”
“Completely. And you won’t care anymore.”
“But will I have gained anything? Grown in anyway?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I forget, but it was so important just a minute ago.”
(Scene)