An-chan's words

Where did the writing go.  Opening Number.  Was it the Greek or the Romans who said to tread lightly.  I have a friend who makes clocks with the books.  One of the most brilliant people alive is home in bed.  She had her breasts removed.  Cancer.  There is another woman who has stories.  A mom is growing pumpkins and sewing art on stage in Connecticut.  A dad is discovering his mission all over again.  Bon Iver is making music.  There’s a field with snow and the squirrel is confused.  His first winter.  A man died two years ago and the speeches were phenomenal.  Does job signify making money.  Where do the poets go to dream.  I want to rent a cloud for some arbitrary stranger’s birthday party and invite all my good time friends.  Reveal a huge plot point here.  Next is the second act.  The bathrooms are to the left.   Please use caution on the stairs and duck through the doorway if you are unusually tall…

Act two started with a bang.  I’m pretty sure this is a firework carcass in my lap.  Did the children play.  Did the parents get a break.  Shopping malls used to be more alive.  Somewhere God is watching.  No judgement.  I remember her hand picking blackberries as she hummed.  I thought it was for me.  A grandfather has grandpa jokes.  Dogs leave before the storm.  They know what the cats don’t.  Bells.  The drum.  Symbols!  Silence.  Curtain.  Curtain call.  Awkward lobby conversation.  And maybe a beer or ten.  Sleep. 

Photo by Sadie Myers. Words by Dustin Whitehead.