(Lights up. There's a door in the center of the stage. A young man is walking around it, examining it from every angle but never opening nor passing through it. On either side of him stands a woman, watching his progress.)
B: It's a door?
W1: It is a door.
W2: Definitely a door.
(Pause)
B: A door to what?
W1: To what comes next.
W2: To what come later.
B: What does that mean?
W2: Nothing.
W1: Everything.
B: That's helpful.
(The man sits in front of the door, looking around as though he's lost. He eventually focuses in on the women.)
B: Who are you two?
W1: No one.
W2: No two.
B: What are you doing here?
W1: I'm here to guide
Up and down,
the story of my life.
A sad tale of being strung out and wound up
racing back and forth, to and from the littoral
ground of my room chasing after the ever
flowing tides of life.
And so I pass.
But then I come here and hold you in my hands again;
a nimbus of radiant green playing off your impeccable sheen
and it all goes away. So we begin to play.
We fly, we dip, we travel round the world,
up the Eifel tower to catch a rocket to the moon
where the cat in the cradle is waiting with a forward
pitch and still home in time to walk the dog.
Never gone for long, is my friend. My hope.
Bound forever by the string of fate
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Or say, in dream, I did first see your face?
Shall I with verse your breath do steal away?
And in my heart for you only make space?
And will you sigh? Your heart do race? Will red
your cheeks invade? Or will you wield your wit
with lover's grace, a caveat well said
your chosen blade? I do shudder at it.
With a devil's smile, you rend asunder
my carefully crafted prose and claim,
my love, that I do fumble and blunder
with clichés so old, they your ears do maim.
You beg that to myself I should be true,
And so I say plainly that I love you.