Duet for Man,Woman, Birth, Death, Infinity and St. Louis #7
Man My turn to talk about an ex-wife
Woman No, you had Tuesday.
And you cheated.
you talked about your work
in your usual manner
of having a pattern on existence
Man Pass the wine.
(pause while wine is passed. may need two glasses and
empty bottle as props)
So it’s Friday
and your turn, to talk on the kids
the old what they did
Woman You don’t know my times
Naptime is an epitome
over to a neighbour’s
epiphany
and the moment of being alone
a symphony
Man Wait on. (sips wine)
You wanted three. You have.
2 merely graceless
1 past
future perfect.
Woman Merely mine?
Like you….
borrow them
for certain
occasions.
Man Merely mine?
Pass the wine.
Merely mine? (he sips) (she sips)
It has a certain tang to it
a certain remembrance
of things
not quite fully past
is this the last?
how things end?
broken youth
never seems to bend
Woman You pass the wine!
Speaking in dreams
leaving
me the echoes of screams
the memories of diapers
of watching
to make sure they still move
(pausal)
That’s a beggar’s bargain
Man You never spoke in dreams
making mine yours
it’s my shimmering wine
you so lustlessly pour.
you drink of being Samuel’s mother
sip of
the ambrosia of Ambrose
get doe-eyed drunk
on the case of
Celia
This is your life
someone else’s
Woman And when you leave
some wall-eyed Friday night
going to the cemetery store
for some bone yard
de light
visiting a grave
in all your joy
talking how she was much better
I’ll still have one girl. two boys
And you
you don’t like photos
Man Pass the wine(sips)
If I go to my yesterday
find a Pine Street garden
write the great American
or paint
the unseen eye
or merely leave
to leave love’s leavings
for the sure and pure of lust
for the new
the not you
scrapin’ off the rust
that you built up
you’ll find me to remember
until you find another me
you’ll place me like a
butterfly
in the pages of my leaving
Woman Will you go out for cigarettes
or sneak back in some sheltered dawn
Will she look like Loni Anderson
Or think like Werner Braun
Will her legs and feet be young and lithe
speaking with that adorable lisp
Will she drink each night, ten sacks of wine
A young girl go ing no where, isn’t that your kind?
Man I’ll leave in time
to be Byron
or be Tarzan
But first
isn’t it time for Carson
Bob Small 5-23-83
winged it after the first 8 lines
listening to extensive Bartok
robertthesmall 