(Stage left, flirting with an exit.)

 

(The very back of the house, past the control board.) 

Too far to be heard?

Certainly.

 

The ears are filled enough.

 

Then pick up on something else. You can afford to tune out.

You know it,

it’s in your fingers.

So hear me.

Turn and look.

And see what?

 

Another face in the audience.

 

One warmed by light, the farthest from you.

Back against the wall, singular.

To whom?

 

Who points your spotlight, and why should we watch?

 

You know that

I was a famous actor once.

I played the Free Idiot, unaware of his fortune in a world of slavery.

I was belligerent and I had legroom.

I moved in circles, hoping to make a whirlpool in the sand.

Once you would’ve watched.

Don’t get maudlin.

 

Act as your withering self and go.

 

I won’t watch.

 

But wouldn’t you like to

say goodbye

and know I wasn’t coming back?

Wouldn’t you like to leave?

 

Will you open the door?

I never closed it.

 

Then who could say that I was ever here?

What mark did I leave, inside or out?

Where is my perpetuity?

Do you want me to say it again?

 

Once was more than enough

and you knew it.

I had to vomit greatly

to know my hunger as more than greed.

Eat again.

 

I won’t feed you.

 

Feed yourself.

The song is over.

 

So I’ll clap.

Why give me that?

 

For the same reason you don’t.

Feed yourself.

 

Feed yourself.