You're Gonna Be the One That Saves Me

Your bathing suit reminds me not to stare

And I appreciate your broken tone

We shake hands like we’re telling a joke

And I silently say your name to myself

I’m two miles down a one-mile well

Deeper than anybody thought I could go

I sent back the bucket with a note that said ‘I’m fine’

And floated on the top like a brand new penny

Then along comes this oasis

In my self-imposed desert

And briskly I’m reminded

That I never learned to swim

You’re not flow-y like the poems say

Or flowery, or sunny

Nothing about you says nature

Or earthy, or natural, or free

But you have to get close to get close

And that reminds me of me

You don’t inspire me to write

You inspire me to not write

Half the rockets in the sky

And you picked mine

To bring back down

I hear 90’s radio

And shut my eyes

Knowing I was stuck in ‘91

And here comes ‘96

I want to get up and dance

But I’m too drunk to move

Clicking my tongue

Tapping my feet

Cool windshield for a pillow

Rolling engine as a bed

You know I’m gonna be a project

But you love me anyway

Not right way, but you see it coming

Like a big wave at a little boat

You’re gonna tile me

And teach me

Root canal me

And reach me

They’re gonna write about us

But we won’t be writing

We’ll be too busy living

Giving ‘em something to write about

I’m going to drown

And dizzy

And burn out

And lose

And lose again

And give you something

To work with

You’re gonna say you’ll never leave

And I’m gonna change your mind

But you’ll stay anyway

Past your friends’ objections

Your parents’ ultimatums

And your own common sense

You get up on the hood with me

And we say…nothing

Frogs jump by but you don’t kiss ‘em

Boys drive by and honk their horn

You put your head next to mine

And whisper promises you’re not sure you can keep

And I peg you for what you are

There and then

My sword on your shoulder

The stone of your lips

You’re gonna be the one that saves me, I say

And you say—We’ll see

You won’t believe me

Until you’ve done it

Until I’m saved

And you’ve done the saving

I’m the thing you thought you’d never do

And you did a good job

I’ve had a lot of people love me

So that’s nothing new

But nothing compares

To being saved my you

Around the House

They feed me chicken on Fridays

And tell me I’m doing well

You’re doing well, they say

As if they have some insight into my wellness

That I’m not privy to

I wouldn’t be surprised

There isn’t much I am privy to these days

The pills say I’m happy

And so I’m happy

The pills say I’m level

And so I’m level

I’m stable

I’m solid

I eat solid food

I eat, that’s the point

Any food will do

Even the crap they feed me

Like the burnt chicken

And mushy peas

The maids bring me the pills

The chef brings me the food

The butler stands next to me

To make sure I don’t find myself

Attracted to the knives

They wheel me around my house

Like I’m a child in a carriage

This is the room you do this in

This is the room for sitting

This is the room for talking

This is the room where you visit with guests

Although there are never any guests

They think my memory is faulty

When actually, my memory is fine

But my will is being challenged

By my own lack of enthusiasm

The servants—maids, butlers, everyone

Have a hobby they enjoy

They like telling me

How rich I am

You’re lucky, they say

You’re lucky you’re so rich

And can afford to have people

Take care of you

But then they leave me

Believing I’m trapped with whatever’s

Locked behind my eyes

They close the curtains

They turn out the lights

They forget about me

Where there were candles

Now there are photos of candles

Where there were portraits

Now there are hooks and faded paint

Where there was a window

There’s a wall

Where there was a bedroom

There’s a washroom

Where there were flowers

There are empty cages

A phone rings

But no one answers

A clock chimes

But time goes back

Back to halls I used to dance through

Back to tables with friends around them

Back to twelve seconds ago

And back twelve years further than that

Aren’t I lucky that I’m rich, I think?

Only the rich can afford

To live off their memories

Someone comes to get me

And only my body is there

This time they’ve finally convinced me to vacate

This time they’re on their own

The Elephant and Chris

The elephant told herself

She wouldn’t do this again

She sits across from Chris

Looking down into her coffee

Trying to twiddle thumbs

She doesn’t have

Her trunk rests casually on the table

Next to her scone

Chris chews on some bacon

She imagines telling Chris

That this isn’t going to work

They’re just different people

Well, he’s a person anyway

And she’s got aspirations

That he doesn’t share

Chris describes his ideal sandwich

The elephant nods

And thinks about trampling him to death

Across the café, there’s a cheetah

Breaking up with a guy named Floyd

And for a brief moment

The cheetah and the elephant share a moment

A sort of—Yeah, same here, sister

Meanwhile, Chris sops up runny egg yolk with his toast

And the elephant wants to gag

What is wrong with you, she wants to ask

If you wanted a sponge, why not just ask for one?

Why take bread—which is already spongy

Harden it

Then try to make it into a sponge?

He was an illogical force of nature in her life

Like a thunderstorm

Or an unripe melon

The elephant clears her throat

And her coffee cup flies off the table

And halfway across the room

Sometimes she doesn’t know the strength

Of her own breath

Chris reaches over to touch her right ear

But she pulls away

And says ‘Don’t’

He grimaces

The man across from the cheetah

Starts to cry

The elephant thinks about getting up to leave

But where would she go?

Besides, the tables are too close together

She’d end up knocking something over

Or stepping on a croissant

Chris asks her if she likes her scone

‘What’s not to like,’ she asks

Trying to keep the wild fury from her voice

‘It’s a scone’

He senses that something is wrong

His nose twitches

Then flops out of his face

And onto the table

Right onto his pancakes

His ears jut out from either side of his head

And the fingers on both of his hands

Began to run together

Like flippers

Then swell like water balloons

His skin turns a mid-day grey

And his clothes fall off in threads

Like snake’s skin

Great, the elephant thinks,

Now there are two of us

The waiter stops by and asks

If they’d like a refill on their coffee

Two nods

The waiter nods

More coffee on the way

The elephant dashes her hopes

This breakfast will go on forever

The cheetah is now alone

The man across from her got up to use the restroom

And never came back

Chris has fallen asleep at the table

His trunk landed in her fruit cup

Great, thought the elephant

Just great

This Boring Heaven

You can’t trust a cloud

To tell you the truth

You can believe that it won’t lie to you

But that doesn’t mean it has to tell you everything

I ask to see you

They say you’re here

But you’re not here

‘Not in this exact spot?’

Heaven, the cloud says, is a very large place

Funny, because I always thought of Heaven

As being exclusive

And so, tiny

Miniscule, really

Since it seemed that so few of us

Would actually see it

But it turns out that the Lord is forgiving

And so Heaven is a landscape

More vast than Earth

And so ‘lost’—

A concept we the living

Have given up

--Lost is something that now only exists in Eternity

Someone can be in the same place as us

And nowhere near us

I thought Heaven was for the happy, I say

And the cloud says—

Happy, maybe, but not ecstatic

Certainly not entertained

You’re at peace is all

Isn’t that enough?

But I’m bored

I don’t say that

But it’s how I feel

I’m bored in Heaven

And I thought I was going to see you here

I was buried on a Saturday

In my Sunday best

My hair was done just right

A hint of a smile crept upon my lips

And nothing the undertaker did

Could seem to fix it

People wept on me

They touched me

One even took my photo

And I lay there imagining you

Feeding me apple slices

Walking with me to the market

Throwing down your key

You’re here, the cloud says

And you’re everywhere

And individuality is a luxury

That you’ll grow to forget

I pictured Heaven like a Cab Calloway dance number

White steps

Top hat

A cane

A tap number

I thought I’d be tapping with you

I try and get a sense of my feet again

So I can tap one

Knock it off, the cloud says

Then goes back to hovering

Over a child’s birthday party

I let go of my feet

But not my fingers

I wiggle one

Then another

I feel a light touch

On my thumbnail

And I know it’s you

I don’t know how

But I know it is

The cloud breaks up

And I close my hand

The smile returns

To where my lips used to be

And Heaven grows

A little smaller

A little closer

Together

The Nuns and The Bear

The nuns go softly towards the bear

The bear cocks its head

And looks at them

He doesn’t trust the nuns

He doesn’t understand them

They pitch their tents

And make their fires

They strum guitars

Under sunhats

Braise meat they brought with them

And laugh at old jokes

With new punchlines

These are not your average nuns

The bear licks its paw

When the nuns approach

He lets them get closer to him

Than he has ever let any human get

But he can’t help himself

He has a curiosity about them

What are they doing here?

In the river, they wash their clothes

And their hair

When it rains, they huddle in the tent

The bear can see them

From his spot between the rocks

Their shadows tell stories

Of prayer and silence

But when the rain finishes

They emerge from the tent

As if they’ve rediscovered where they are

Again and again

When they get near the bear

He kicks back his upper lip

To give them a flash of tooth

So they won’t forget themselves

Or him

That doesn’t stop one of them

From getting a foot away

And smiling at him

Why are you smiling, he wonders

But then he drops his upper lip

And his guard as well

The nuns don’t rustle

He doesn’t rustle

There’s an understanding

That this could all change

And change suddenly

With no previous contract breached

Or agreement vacated

The little nun

Who lost her family in the war

Puts out her hand

The bear assembles an opinion of it

And then steps back, and away

He has disappointed her

And himself

But she doesn’t show it on her face

And he doesn’t eat her face

So it’s not the worst way

This all could have ended

When the nuns pack up and leave the next day

The bear watches them hike back through the forest

Until the light leaves the leaves

And the black and white

Mix with the brown and blush

And the rain starts again

Promising nothing will look the same

And everything will be different

Grandfather on the Ice

Grandfather’s on the ice

Waiting for the tide

To pull him out

The tide?

Is that what the tide does?

We’re not sure

We’re not exactly a scientific people

We put our grandparents on the ice floes

And then we walk away

But two months later

We’ve returned

To spend our long weekend

By the ice

Engaging in leisure activities

Such as—Not Freezing to Death

And—Casual Shivering

And what do we find?

Grandfather—Still on the Ice

Still alive and feeble

Withering away

At the ripe age of forty-two

He’s been existing solely on fish he catches with a net

He’s made out of his own hair, which, luckily for him

Is falling out at accelerated rates

‘Grandfather,’ we yell from a safe distance

Scared to approach him

Since it’s likely he’s now feral

‘You were supposed to float out to sea

And die a dignified death

Of exposure and starvation!’

He doesn’t respond to us

He simply melts ice into a cup

He must have smuggled out of the village

We would never have allowed him

To bring a perfectly good cup

Onto the ice floe with him

Why bother?

And now he’s used it

And his hairnet

To keep himself alive

Well, this is an abomination

After a night under our seal pelts

We wake up at dawn

To find him behaving strangely

Then we realize what he’s doing—

Exercising!

He’s exercising!

It’s as if he has no urge to die at all!

We apologize for our excessive use of exclamation points

In this part of our story

But we mean to infer

The extreme level of agitation

Brought about by seeing how spry and able-bodied

Our dead grandfather was

Because, at this juncture, he is essentially dead

We’ve mourned him

We’ve wept

We’ve divided up most of his valuables

And accused our cousin of stealing his prized cup

Causing quite the rift in our little clan

Only to find out that Grandfather had it

This entire time!

Where do we go from here?

--We ask ourselves

What is to be done?

Our mother, who so grieved when she parted with her father,

Suggests harpooning him

And calling it a day

But, we say, you cannot kill him

For he is already dead

We find ourselves

In quite

The conundrum

Grandfather, for his part, seems to be in great spirits

He’s made himself a little ice chaise

On the floe

And a little ice table

And even a little ice dog

That we see him petting occasionally

Well that’s it, we think, he’s lost his mind

--And this makes us very sad

It’s why we put him on the ice floe

When we did

It’s a horrible thing

To lose one’s sense of self

That’s why we send our elderly out into the everlasting water

Before their minds have a chance to deteriorate

We’ve estimated that the mind begins to erode

Around the age of forty-three or forty-four

And so, we’re always sure to send our elders to their deaths

A year or two before that

How do we come to these estimations?

Well, it's not an exact science
In that it's not exactly a science
More like a feeling
A discomfort
The air of an ending
The trailing off of someone's life

Grandfather sits on the ice floe
And we sit on the shore
Two sides of time
Bound by a line
That goes even deeper
Than the cracks in the ice
That separate the safe from the drowned

We need him to die
So we can stop thinking about him dying
Because thinking about him dying
Makes us think about our own deaths
And those are unpleasant thoughts
That make living difficult

It is, we suppose, the unfortunate thing about death
That it has a way of ruining life
If you let it

We take a few steps towards Grandfather
Sitting on his ice chaise
Petting his ice dog
Whittling a shard of frozen water
Into what looks like a totem

As we approach him
He lets out a breath
And we take ours in

There's a lap of water
There's a whale's howl
There's a cut and chop the cold does
When you insist on walking through it

We extend our hand to Grandfather
And he smiles
As if he knows something
We don't

Then--directly underneath us
The ice
Begins to crack

Romance in Peacetime

Away from the falling candles

Away from the lucky glass

Away from the wine-soaked tablecloths

And the bad news

And the blasts

There we sit on empty dance floors

With the music in our minds

Left of center

Left alone

To be uncertain of ourselves

Now the sunset comes too early

And the sunrise, not at all

We believe in first impressions

Second chances

And third strikes

I have on my old tuxedo

And you wear your party dress

Life’s a dance we never learned

Love’s a trip we never took

Happiness is, well, happiness

A bird calls out

A whippoorwill

A nightjar

At least, that’s what I think it is

Ghosts make more noise than you think

Blessed footsteps

Creaking wood

Are we here or are we not?

Who’s to say?

Why make a fuss?

Lift me up

Onto my feet

I want to try out

These new toes

Is that wind around my hair

Or just the hope of it?

I ply my leg

I pull it back

You sit so softly

Like a child at storytime

I dance for you

You clap for me

I stop

You stare

I drop

You crawl

Around us, wars are ending

And when they’re done

Who will we be?

We’ve had no romance in peacetime

We were built on bombs

And soda walls

Carbonated friction

Caffeinated lives

Living to our own devices

Listening to hearts louder

Than the dead

Won’t we be boring

When all this is over?

Won’t we be heavy

And hearty

And sad?

Like everybody else

That never learned to dance

A dream within a dream

A break within a song

A bird without its voice

A romance without candles

Without perfume, passion, or pursuit

You smother me

And smother me

And smooth me out

So nobody will notice

But it’s too late, you see

It’s much too late

To start another war

We Might Be Heroes: The Moon

Dear Alexander,

In two weeks time

I’ll be amongst the stars

Aiming at spaceships

Firing my electronic pulses at them

Watching their warcrafts

Turn to space dust

I’ll fly up there in a sleek

But sensible outfit

And rescue humanity

From extraterrestrials

I know what you’re thinking

Why are you telling me all this?

We’ve been separated for…

Oh God, two years?

Two years, Jesus

Well—I’m writing to you because…

I’m not coming back

From space, I mean

Or whatever

I’m not coming back to Earth

I thought about it

But, honestly

Earth holds no appeal to me anymore

I’m happy to be saving it

But living on it is…

It’s become more difficult without you, Alexander

Not that I’m devastated or anything

I don’t want you thinking I’m, you know

Suicidal

Although I guess flying into oblivion

And not coming back

Doesn’t exactly demonstrate

A zest for life

I’m just not having fun anymore, you know?

Without you, it’s…

Well, it’s not depression

It’s not hopelessness

Hell, it’s not even ennui

It’s just…

Why?

You know?

Why?

To think that I can save mankind

But I can’t bring you back

It’s as if—

It’s as if my abilities

--My enhanced abilities--

Are just a cruel joke

Soaring over vistas

And oceans

Feeling only my mind wander

Because I’m alone

No matter how high you fly

You’re still alone

Maybe when I’m up by the moon

I’ll try floating on my back

As if I’m in a pool

Drifting around

Going this way and that

And maybe from in front of the moon

I’ll look down on Earth

And see you somewhere

A candle in a dark room

And I’ll say ‘There he is’

And I’ll keep an eye on you

From way up there

Twice a Shooting Star

Checkered plaid electricity

Zap mosquitoes

Swat and slap

Cardboard crowns

And empty wrappers

Nickels tucked into the rugs

Make the bed shake

Find a cartoon

Lift your dress up

Put your dress down

Put the make-up on yourself

Rev the engine

Close the curtains

Scrape the shower

‘Til it’s clean

Can’t wash yourself in something dirty

Fill the bucket

Dump your purse out

Buy a bag of stale pretzels

Take your dress off

Barefoot carpets

Half-cracked Bibles

Flimsy headboards

Chewed up nails

Wrinkled foreheads

Wrinkled everything

Polished shoes

Practice breathing

Dry land swimming

Lucky guessing

Solitaire

Name your price

Put on lipstick

Put on pantyhose

Put on perfume

Bite your tongue

Bite your lip

Bite your nails

Bite the bullet

Test the mattress

Eat the burger

Wear the crown

Try the mirror

Run the shower

Lick the steam

Pinch your cheeks

Spin in circles

Spin in circles

Spin in circles

Crack the Bible

Find a passage

Ask forgiveness

Bless yourself

Stretch your arms out

Scan the ceiling

Slip your dress off

Say your name

In the window

There’s an engine

Revving, ready

Black and blue

And metal too

Sunlight, headlights

Moonlight, night light

Put your hair up

Put your dress on

Put yourself together fast

There’s a knock

And there’s a phone call

There’s a star

Gone twice already

Make a wish

Can’t hurt to do

One might not count

Be safe

Make two

Clothes on the Line

She better come home

She’s got clothes on the line

Food in the pantry

Food in the fridge

Dog keeps barking

Kids are crying

I’m sittin’ here trying to drink my beer

Clothes on the line

Whippin’ in the wind

Storm could be comin’

And she don’t even care

She’s probably runnin’ around

With no shoes

Hair down

Dancin’ at that spot in town

Where all the soldiers go

Her old beau came back

From Korea yesterday

Lost an eye

And half his mind

Try dancin’ with someone like that

The sleeve on a shirt on the line

Comes up and waves at me

Through the window

From the yard

I wave back

Because why not?

The kids are in their rooms

Freshly spanked for making noise

Put to bed without the supper

That their mother didn’t make

I should take the clothes off the line

But that ain’t my job

My job is my job

Putting in furnaces

Six days a week

The yellow dress she wore

With the red stain near the bottom

Flies up in the air

And tugs at the line

She never could that red stain out

But she wouldn’t trash the dress

Must mean something to her

That I don’t know about

There’s lots of things

She keeps in her pockets

And buttons up tight

So I can’t get to ‘em

Nights in the field

Notes passed in school

Whispers at our wedding

Stains on yellow dresses

That look like blood

A sock flies off the line

Towards a watermelon sky

I should go out there

And take the rest down

But right after I’d do that

I’d head into town

And make a scene at a bar

Have everybody say how mean I am

What a bad man

And how she shoulda married

That one-eyed bastard

And been a caretaker her whole life

Instead of just having to cook a few dinners

Wash a few dishes

Take a few shirts in from outside

A pin comes off the yellow dress

The wind wants to claim it

As its own

That gets me off my ass

And out the back door

But just as I reach the line

The other pin comes off

And the dress goes running after the sock

I reach for it

And catch the end of it

Where the red stain is

I should be stronger than the wind

But the wind begs to differ

It yanks me up and out

And before I can think about it

I let go and watch her favorite dress

Disappear in air and temperature

Serves her right, I tell myself

But does it?

Feels like it might serve me right instead

I go back inside

Crack open another beer

And listen to the wind pick up

A few more things

Before it leaves for good

The front door sits unlocked

Ready for somebody to come inside

I’ll just be here, I think

My breath going bad

I’ll be waiting

Right here

We Might Be Heroes: Letters

(Two men stand onstage.)

BURR:  Dear Steven—

STEVEN:  Dear Burr—

BURR:  I was wondering what you would think about reuniting to help fight the aliens.

STEVEN:  I’m worried you’re going to want to reunite to fight the aliens.

BURR:  We had such a wonderful time together.

STEVEN:  I feel it would be a mistake.

BURR:  With my ability to stretch and contort my body—

STEVEN:  With your weird rubber arms and that thing you do with your neck—

BURR:  And you with your superspeed—

STEVEN:  Plus, I’ve given up running.  I mostly amble now, although sometimes I mosey.

BURR:  We don’t have to hide anymore.  The government wants heroes out in the open.

STEVEN:  I like my privacy.  Sometimes I dress up like a clown for no reason.  Getting older has done odd things to me.

BURR:  And why stop at aliens?  We can take on criminals.

STEVEN:  And who’s to say it would stop at aliens?  They’d probably make us fight criminals too.

BURR:  We can make a real difference in the world.

STEVEN:  The world is beyond saving.  Personally, I’m siding with the aliens.  Let ‘em blow us up.  Things can’t get much worse anyway.

BURR:  You were always so positive.  Always ready to look on the bright side of things.

STEVEN:  I hope you’re still the cynical jerk you were back when we were young.  I feel like I could appreciate you now.

BURR:  Doing yoga has really changed me.  Well, that, and all the money I inherited when my uncle died.  He invented K-Cups, you know.

STEVEN:  God we were stupid back then.  Running around with capes and masks—

BURR:  Remember how good I looked in a cape?  Capes are the shit, man.  They really are.

STEVEN:  Sitting on rooftops, looking for trouble—

BURR:  Out at all hours of the night, lurking in the shadows to strike fear in the hearts of the morally bankrupt—

STEVEN:  That time I got food poisoning and threw up on that bank robber.

BURR:  That time you got food poisoning and threw up that bank robber.

STEVEN:  I don’t want to revisit that, Burr.  Let’s leave well enough alone, all right?

BURR:  I think about it all the time—those days, those nights—the years just out of reach—

STEVEN:  Sure, my life isn’t all that exciting now, aside from the skydiving lessons and amateur boxing league I started in my backyard on Tuesdays—

BURR:  Do you ever lay awake at night and think ‘God we were so much fun?’

STEVEN:  Do you ever lay awake at night and think ‘God, were we idiots?’

BURR:  My wife thinks I’m crazy.

STEVEN:  How’s your wife?  I always liked Sharon.

BURR:  She says my days of being a vigilante are over.

STEVEN:  She used to make that wonderful onion dip.  Does she still make that?

BURR:  She says if I join up to fight the aliens, she’ll leave me.  Do you believe that?

STEVEN:  I never got married after Linda left me.  I do have a parrot that yells obscenities at me from time to time, and that’s about as much of a wife as I can handle.

BURR:  I’m just so bored, Steve.

STEVEN:  I’m so happy, Burr.  I really am.  And I’m miserable.  And I’m happy being miserable.  It’s a weird phenomenon.

BURR:  I wake up in the middle of the night panicking—but I don’t know why.  My wife thinks I’m apprehensive about the aliens, but it’s not that.  It’s the fear of sitting by and watching other people fly by me—capes in the wind, fists out, ready to do something—ready to participate—

STEVEN:  I can sit by a window and say whatever it’s gonna to be, it’s gonna be.  Let the kids go fight, it’s their fight anyway.  Why save a planet I’m only going to be on for a little while longer anyway?  I realize I’m not quite dead, but in the grand scheme of humanity’s history, I’m a blip.  We’re all blips.

BURR:  Sharon sent me to the supermarket to buy water.  Stock up on water, she said.  Why, I felt like saying, so we can survive?  That’s it?  Just survive.  I don’t want to just survive.  I want to…I want to…

STEVEN:  You should stock up on water, Burr.  Water and canned goods.  And probably guns too.  I have a ton of guns—oh a ton of guns, what a phrase—and you can have one or two if you want.  I don’t run from things anymore.  I face ‘em head on and say ‘You wanna tango, boss?’  That’s more my style these days.  But as long as you stay off my property, I got no problem with you.

BURR:  I got a ball off the roof today using my powers.  My son was so embarrassed.  ‘Come on, Dad,’ he said, ‘You’re being weird.’  I’m weird.  I always thought I was cool, but I guess I’m just—

STEVEN:  Weird, isn’t it?  For years we thought we had to be ashamed of who we were, and now, we’re hot tickets.  We’re in demand.

BURR:  I might just do it, Steve.  I might just take off in the middle of the night.  Go to DC.  Sign up.  See what happens.

STEVEN:  I might just go into the bunker I built in my basement and not come out again.  I have jerky and girly mags down there.  What else do I need?

BURR:  If I do, I hope I run into you out there.  Maybe we can fight alongside each other on the battlefield.

STEVEN:  If I do, best of luck to you, Burr.  And tell Sharon I sure do miss that dip.

BURR:  All the Best.

STEVEN:  All the Best.

BURR:  Ps.  You always were my best friend.

STEVEN:  Ps.  You still me twenty bucks.

We Might Be Heroes: Hope

(NATHAN speaks to his daughter, SKY.)

NATHAN:  Now I want you to tell me the truth.

SKY:  Okay.

NATHAN:  Did you go invisible when you were at your mom’s?

SKY:  Yes.

NATHAN:  Okay.

SKY:  Are you mad?

NATHAN:  Yes, I’m mad.  You’re not supposed to go invisible.  We talked about this, Sky.

SKY:  I can’t help it sometimes.

NATHAN:  When did that start?  You can always help it.

SKY:  It’s just been happening.

NATHAN:  Did something change?

SKY:  No.

NATHAN:  Well, something must have changed, otherwise why would it be happening?

SKY:  Maybe it happens when I’m upset.

NATHAN:  Were you upset at your Mom’s?

SKY:  Yeah.

NATHAN:  Why?

SKY:  Because I didn’t want to be there.

NATHAN:  Why not?

SKY:  Because I was scared you weren’t coming back to get me.

NATHAN:  Because you heard I was going to DC?

SKY:  Yeah.

NATHAN:  Sky, I told you I was coming back.

SKY:  I know.

NATHAN:  Did you think I was lying?

SKY:  I know you wouldn’t want to lie but…

NATHAN:  But what?

SKY:  Maybe you didn’t know you were lying.

NATHAN:  You know, sometimes I gotta have hard conversations with you, right?

SKY:  Yeah.

NATHAN:  Like, sometimes we’re going to have to talk about stuff that you might not want to hear.  Stuff that’ll make you sad or something, and that’s okay, but we still gotta talk, you know, whatever that stuff is.

SKY:  Okay.

NATHAN:  I do have to go to DC.  I went on Thursday to scope things out, but now I gotta go back.

SKY:  Why?

NATHAN:  You know why.  Because you’re not the only one who can go invisible when she wants to.

SKY:  I know.

NATHAN:  And I gotta turn myself in.

SKY:  But you didn’t do anything wrong.

NATHAN:  It’s not about doing something wrong.  It’s about signing up to do something right.

SKY:  Why do you have to sign up?

NATHAN:  What if everybody who could help had a daughter saying that to them—Why do you have to do it?  Then nobody would do it, right?

SKY:  I don’t care though.

NATHAN:  But I want you to care, that’s the thing.  When you grow up, I want you to be somebody who cares a lot, even if it means doing something you don’t want to do.  And right now, I need you to be with your mom and not give her any trouble, okay?

SKY:  She makes me feel weird.

NATHAN:  That’s because she doesn’t understand what you can do.  You gotta have patience with her.  Just because she’s a mom, that doesn’t make her perfect.

SKY:  She’s just jealous of me.

NATHAN:  Yeah, maybe she is.  A lot of people wish they could be invisible these days.

SKY:  She says I should keep it a secret.

NATHAN:  That’s because she doesn’t want other people to hurt you.

SKY:  If I’m special, why would they hurt me?

NATHAN:  To try and get at what you have.

SKY:  Why can’t you just stay here and protect me?

NATHAN:  Because I already gave you everything you need to protect yourself.  I gave you what I have.  Somebody starts something with you—you just blank out on ‘em.  They won’t know where you went.  Then you get yourself somewhere safe and you call Mom or Grandma or somebody, okay?

SKY:  Okay.

NATHAN:  You scared?

SKY:  A little.

NATHAN:  You know who gets scared?

(She shakes her head.)

NATHAN:  Smart people.  That’s why they’re so smart.  Because they don’t try and act all big and bad.  They say ‘I’m scared’ and then they do what they gotta do.  They regroup, they plan, and they come back ready to fight.  That’s how you gotta be.

SKY:  Ready to fight?

NATHAN:  Yup.

SKY:  I thought fighting was bad?

NATHAN:  It is.  But it’s something you gotta do.

SKY:  Sometimes you gotta do bad stuff?

NATHAN:  Yeah, that’s life, kid.  And if you’re lucky you can tell the difference between the good stuff and the bad stuff.

SKY:  What if you’re not lucky?

NATHAN:  Then you gotta hope.

(He hugs her.)

NATHAN:  If nothing else, you can always hope.

(Lights.)

We Might Be Heroes: Swimmers

(MARY ANN and SUSAN are on a plane reading magazines.)

MARY ANN:  You know what I don’t understand—

SUSAN:  Please Mary Ann.

MARY ANN:  If you can fly—

SUSAN:  I’m not just going to flying through the air.  I explained this to you several times.

MARY ANN:  We would have saved a lot of money on plane tickets.

SUSAN:  What do you mean ‘we?’  You’d still be on this plane.

MARY ANN:  I thought maybe you could carry me.

SUSAN:  Just because I can fly, that doesn’t mean I have superhuman strength.

MARY ANN:  Well that was rude.

SUSAN:  I’m sorry.  I hate flying.  You know that.

MARY ANN:  I do, but you know, ever since you told me you can fly, it’s made your fear of flying seem a little odd.

SUSAN:  In planes.  I don’t like flying in planes.

MARY ANN:  But you don’t mind flying on your own?

SUSAN:  No.

MARY ANN:  That’s weird.

SUSAN:  When I’m on my own, I’m in control.  In here, I just feel…I don’t know.

MARY ANN:  Well, if anything happens, you could always just jump out of the nearest exit.

SUSAN:  Please, Mary Ann, don’t even bring it up.

MARY ANN:  Fine, fine.  But you know, if I can be on a plane—

SUSAN:  I know, Mary Ann.

MARY ANN:  Statistically speaking, we’re fine.

(A beat.)

SUSAN:  We might see Larry in DC.

MARY ANN:  What?

SUSAN:  When we get there.

MARY ANN:  Why would we see Larry?

SUSAN:  He lives there.

MARY ANN:  So do a lot of people.

SUSAN:  Don’t make this a big deal.

MARY ANN:  Why were you even talking to him?

SUSAN:  I had to tell him Michelle is pregnant.

MARY ANN:  Why can’t Michelle tell him?

SUSAN:  Mary Ann, he’s the father of my children.

MARY ANN:  And your youngest child is twenty-eight.  You don’t need to talk to him anymore.

SUSAN:  I was just curious about how he was doing.

MARY ANN:  How is he doing?

SUSAN:  He’s fine.

MARY ANN:  Still with Gloria?

SUSAN:  Well…

MARY ANN:  Jesus.

SUSAN:  Mary Ann—

MARY ANN:  Did you think I’d be thrilled about this?

SUSAN:  It’s nothing.  He said maybe we could get coffee while I was in town.

MARY ANN:  While you’re signing up to go fight aliens?

SUSAN:  You know, this probably hasn’t occurred to you, but in the event I do end up fighting aliens, I’d like to have all my affairs in order.

MARY ANN:  I didn’t realize Larry was an affair.

SUSAN:  I never liked how we ended things.

MARY ANN:  So you want to start ‘em up again so you can end ‘em right?

SUSAN:  That’s not it.

MARY ANN:  You know, I came on this trip to support you—

SUSAN:  Exactly.  So be supportive.

MARY ANN:  I never agreed to babysit you while you rekindle things with Larry.

SUSAN:  Nothing is getting rekindled.  I just want to say what I have to say before I go to my appointment at the agency.

MARY ANN:  And what is it you have to say?

SUSAN:  That…he hurt me.  Very much.

MARY ANN:  You think he doesn’t know that?

SUSAN:  I’m sure he does, but I’ve never said it to him.

MARY ANN:  You think he cares?

SUSAN:  People change, Susan.

MARY ANN:  You know, you never tell me anything.

SUSAN:  What are you talking about?  You’re the only person I told about the—you know, my…ability.

MARY ANN:  Yeah, after decades of keeping it a secret.

SUSAN:  I didn’t tell anybody.

MARY ANN:  Did you tell Larry?

SUSAN:  Of course I told Larry, he was my husband.

MARY ANN:  He was your rotten husband.

SUSAN:  He wasn’t always rotten.

MARY ANN:  What did he say?

SUSAN:  When?

MARY ANN:  When you told him you could fly?

SUSAN:  He said I should keep my feet on the ground where they belong.  Then he had another beer.

MARY ANN:  What a prize.

SUSAN:  He was right.

MARY ANN:  What?

SUSAN:  They would have experimented on me for science or whatever.  The only reason I’m turning myself in now is because they actually want me to.

MARY ANN:  And because you’re not with him.

SUSAN:  No.

MARY ANN:  Does he know you’re turning yourself in?

SUSAN:  Yes.

MARY ANN:  And what does he have to say about it now?

SUSAN:  He doesn’t think I should do it.

MARY ANN:  What a surprise.

SUSAN:  Because he still cares about me.

MARY ANN:  Because he wants to keep you down, that’s why.

SUSAN:  You were always jealous because I…

(A beat.)

MARY ANN:  Well, go ahead.  Finish.  Because you had a husband and I didn’t.

SUSAN:  I didn’t…You had Joe.

MARY ANN:  Yes, I did.  And he was wonderful.

SUSAN:  The good ones die too young.

MARY ANN:  Is Joe the reason you’re scared to fly?

SUSAN:  I think the better question is how are you not scared to fly?  Your husband—

MARY ANN:  Some women’s husbands die from drowning, Susan, and they still swim.  Well, some of them do.  I guess when it comes down to it, I’m a swimmer.

SUSAN:  You’ve always been tougher than me.

MARY ANN:  Yeah, but you’re a superhero, I’m not.

SUSAN:  That’s up for debate.

MARY ANN:  You don’t need Larry’s permission to do this, you know.

SUSAN:  But it couldn’t hurt.

MARY ANN:  Susan—

SUSAN:  It’s why he left me.  He says that’s not the reason, but…It’s what I think.  It’s what I believe.

MARY ANN:  If that’s true, then I hope the aliens kill him first.

SUSAN:  Mary Ann!

MARY ANN:  You never know, Susan, the aliens might offer to only kill half the people on earth, and if they do, I think we should just give them the assholes and not put up too much of a fight.

SUSAN:  You know, Joe saw me flying once.

MARY ANN:  He did?

SUSAN:  By accident.  I only went out flying at night.  To practice, just because…Well, I don’t know why.  It was so late; I thought nobody would be up, but there he was, in your backyard.

MARY ANN:  He was always a night owl.  But he never told me he saw you.

SUSAN:  I made him promise not to.  But he said he’d only keep it a secret if I swore I’d never stop.  You should see yourself, he said, A person flying—you make it look like we should all be able to do it.  He made me feel…He was a very kind man.

MARY ANN:  Maybe he’s flying now too.  Maybe that’s the reward we get if we live a good life.  Maybe when it’s all over, we get to fly.

(She puts her hand over SUSAN’s hand.  Lights.)