A Man All Covered in Flowers

My daughter is scared

Of a man

All covered in flowers

She’s told me

That she’s seen him

But there’s nobody here

It’s just us on the island

And the ferry only comes in

Once or twice a month

Depending when Cliff

Can get here

The island is small

We’ve gone over

Every inch of it

She and I

We’re so comfortable here

And it’s so--it’s so safe

That the night she shot up in bed

Screaming about the man

Covered in flowers

I got her up

Took our flashlights

And we went walking

Around the island

So she could see

That it was just us

She didn’t seem hesitant

To go walking with me that night

And that should have startled me

Her lack of fear

After such a bad nightmare

But I had so much work

Ahead of me

The next day

We were doing an inventory

Of our supplies

And because of how I process

And handle numbers

I need to give that task

My total focus

That means once I showed my daughter

That we were alone on the island

I put her back to bed

And then I made myself some coffee

And started the count early

But I didn’t think about why

She was so easily coaxed

To go survey our isolation

Like the gods playing

Some sort of joke on me

When I went back to check on her

A few hours later

She was gone

I didn’t panic--at first

She likes to go exploring

So I went looking for her

And it was only when

I saw the rowboat

On the shore

That I began to worry

The boat hadn’t been there

When she and I were looking around

Or I thought it wasn’t

But it was dark

And it’s possible

We didn’t shine our flashlight

On that part of the shore

And inside the rowboat

There were flower petals

Red and purple

And I think
I saw a golden-colored one

But I might be making that up

I went back to the house

And got my rifle

Then I started circling out

In the way my father had taught me

He was the best tracker

In the Pacific Northwest

And when we moved here

He taught me the best way

To approach covering the island

If I needed to

And I tried to remember

Every word he said

It took me until I got

All the way

To the center of the island

Before I found her

She was sitting at the feet

Of a man

But not a man

A bundle of flowers

Shaped into the form of a man

And tied together with straw

So tightly

That it created the illusion

Of muscle made up of flora

My daughter turned to look at me

As I approached

And I could see that

Whatever fear she had

When the man all covered in flowers

Appeared to her in her nightmare

It had vanished in the man’s presence

She smiled at me

And just then

The flower man

Reached down

To pick her up

I aimed my rifle

Not knowing

What would happen

When I fired

The Contritionist

For the full package

I can promise you

Nearly promise you

A full redemption

Nothing is for sure

You know, you can’t

Absolutely promise anything

But if you look at the reviews

On my website

You’ll see that I nearly always

Get my client back to where they were

Or even ahead

Before their misstep

Now, some people

Like the traditional

NotesApp apology

But that’s not the route

I typically take

I think font is important

I think background is important

I think color scheme is important

Some colors say forgiveness

And some say--

I shouldn’t have

To be doing this

Black and white create a somber tone

Which is nice

But they don’t give you

The kind of human warmth

You’re looking for

If you’d like to give someone your forgiveness

And you’ll notice

That in this office

I talk about forgiveness

As though it is an object

It is a thing we can touch

It is a thing we can see

It is a thing we want to grab

And hold onto

You cannot achieve anything

If your object

Is ethereal

I believe that

With all my heart

I’m going to spend days

Maybe even weeks

Getting the contrition

Right where we want it to be

I’ll go through every word

I will personally measure

The centimeters

Between every word

You don’t want a lot of crowding

When you’re doing an apology

But you don’t want

Too much space either

Or it looks sparse

Looks like there’s nothing there

I’m going to think about

What personal elements

We can incorporate into the apology

Obviously, depending on your comfort level

You might not want a lot of personal details

In the apology

But the more your comfortable sharing

The more likely it is

The apology will take

I will allow for two revisions

In the standard package

And three in the premium

But I never offer

More than three

And it’s highly unlikely

You’ll need to revise anything

I’ve been doing this

A long time

Some people think

All apologies are the same

They’re not

You cannot use the same apology

For hitting somebody with you car

And fleeing the scene of the crime

That you would use

To apologize for cheating on your wife

And having a son with your maid

There are levels

To all of this

And the reason you come

To someone like me

Is because I understand

The levels

I’ve been on every single one of them

And I know what they require

For you, I’d recommend

The premium package

Because this is--

Well, I’m sure you already know

It’s a pretty severe case

Pretty, uh, upsetting

But that doesn’t scare me

Not at all

It just means it’s a good thing

That you came

To a professional

You're Not Rich

      (JOHN, JANE, MATT, and MARY are all finishing dinner at a restaurant.)

JOHN:  --And that's what they want. They're--You know what they're doing?

JANE:  John, calm down.

JOHN:  We're calm, we're--We're with our friends, Jane.

JANE:  I know, but you get worked up and--

MATT:  He's right though, Jane.

JOHN:  You see?  They agree with me. This country is not safe for (whispers) rich people anymore.

MARY:  It's so true.

JOHN:  God forbid a guy makes a buck here and there. He's the bad guy.

MATT:  They're demonizing hard work.

MARY:  It's true.

JOHN:  I earned every penny I have. Every penny.

JANE:  John, your blood pressure.

JOHN:  They are taxing the middle class into the lower class.

JANE:  He got that from a talk he went to.

JOHN:  This talk at the Elk's Club. The guy blew my mind. Do you know that Chicago isn't a real city? It's made up. I always had a feeling, but--

MATT:  You should see what I paid in taxes this year.

JOHN:  America hates the rich. Not that I'm rich.

JANE:  Oh God, no. Far from it.

JOHN:  We're just getting by.

JANE:  You know where we went on vacation last month? Tacoma.

JOHN:  I'm no Joe Monopoly.

JANE:  We didn't even stay the whole week.

JOHN:  But even with what we make, it's tough.

MARY:  I know, you could never imagine what we go through.

     (A beat.)

JOHN:  Yeah, but, uh, what do you mean 'we?'

MARY:  'We.' Me and Matt.

JOHN:  You mean 'us,' right?  All four of us.

     (A beat. Then MATT and MARY laugh.)

JANE:  What's so funny?

MARY:  It's just that--Well...uh, you two are--

MATT:  You work very hard.

MARY:  So hard. We're always saying that.

MATT:  I'm always saying that.

MARY:  We always say 'John works so hard.'

JANE:  That's so nice. Isn't that nice, John?

JOHN:  But then why--

MARY:  We're just saying you're not rich.

     (A beat.)

JOHN:  I mean, I don't want to brag, but--

JANE:  We shouldn't talk about money.

JOHN:  No, no, but we--Jane and I--we're very...comfortable.

JANE:  We went to Tacoma last month. Four days. Three nights.

MATT:  We know you two do okay, but--

JOHN:  We do better than 'okay.'

MARY:  We're just saying comparatively--

JOHN:  Compared to who? To you?

MATT:  Well....

JOHN:  I'm sure we do as well as you.

JANE:  John.

JOHN:  I'm just saying--

MARY:  John, it's nothing to get worked up over, you're just...not rich.

     (A beat.)

JOHN:  How dare you.

JANE:  All right--

JOHN:  I am as rich as they come!

MATT:  John, look, there's rich and there's...rich.

JOHN:  What are you talking about? Rich is rich.

MARY:  No, John.

JANE:  I started buying the yogurt with the granola on top.

JOHN:  Rich is rich.

MATT:  John, what I make--

JOHN:  How much could you--

MARY:  It's more than you, John.

JOHN:  How do you know that?

MATT:  How many houses do you have?

JOHN:  What kind of question is that?

JANE:  Do you mean like a regular house and then a doghouse? Because we like keeping Skippy in the house with us. He has bad anxiety. All chihuahuas are like that.

MARY:  We've got our house, the beach house, the chalet--

JOHN:  You have a chalet?

MATT:  That's what we're telling you, John. We're rich.

MARY:  And we're very grateful.

MATT:  So grateful.

MARY:  And you're comfortable.

MATT:  You look very comfortable.

MARY:  And both are just fine.

     (A beat.)

JOHN:  YOU HAVE A CHALET?

JANE:  John, why are you so angry? We did the chalet too when we pulled up.

JOHN:  That's a valet, Jane. A valet. They're talking about a place where they stay just for when they go skiing.

MARY:  We don't even ski. We just like hot chocolate.

JOHN:  To hell with you and your chalet.

MATT:  John--

JOHN:  AND HOW COULD YOU NOT INVITE ME?

MARY:  You don't like to ski. And you don't like hot chocolate. And we weren't sure if you'd like using a private sauna.

JOHN:  YOU HAVE A PRIVATE SAUNA?

JANE:  Do you rent it out when you're not using it or--?

MATT:  John, none of this matters. We're friends. We've known each other for years. We share the same values.

JOHN:  You know what I value?  Hard work.

MATT:  I've worked hard.

MARY:  Matt works very hard.

JOHN:  Your father gave me you the company!

MATT:  Your father gave you YOUR company.

JOHN:  And it was a mess! Do you know what I had to do to get that company in shape? My father was a crook!

MARY:  John, we're sorry your father was a crook--

JOHN:  How dare you call my father a crook!

JANE:  Talking about somebody's father like that. I'm surprised at you, Mary.

MARY:  Look, I'm just going to say it--

MATT:  Mary--

MARY:  If you want to know the problem with this country--

MATT:  Oh boy.

MARY:  It's that we've got all these people walking around thinking they're rich, when they're not rich.

JOHN:  You're telling me I'm not rich?

MARY:  You're not rich!  You've got one house, two cars, your pool is aboveground, you only go out to eat twice a week, and you vacation in Tacoma.

JANE:  WHAT'S WRONG WITH TACOMA?

JOHN:  Jane, we're leaving.

MATT:  I'll get the check.

JOHN:  Oh no, you don't. I'm getting the check.

JANE:  John, let Matt get the check.

JOHN:  No.

MATT:  You got the check last time.

JOHN:  I'm getting it.

MARY:  You're just trying to prove a point.

JOHN:  You think I'm letting you rich bastards pay for my meal?!?

MARY:  How ungrateful you are.

MATT:  So ungrateful.

JOHN:  I hope they tax you people into kingdom come! Eat the rich!

JANE:  John, how much should we tip?

JOHN:  Three percent. CLOSE THE WAGE GAP!

MARY:  See, this is why we ever invite you to the chalet.

End of Play

Ray of Light

I used to have to put

On a disguise

When I went out

Now, nobody notices

Or they don’t care

I hope they don’t notice

Because if they don’t care

Then that isn’t just about me

And my, uh, fading relevancy

It’s more about

The nature of what impresses people

And these days

It seems--

It seems like not much, doesn’t it?

I decided to walk my dog

Last week

Even though I have people

Who do that for me

And when I took it for a walk

I walked by at least

Eight or nine people

And I made eye contact

Not at first

Because I didn’t used

To have to make eye contact

They would look at me

And they would immediately

Just go quite--

Just sort of lose their minds, you know?

But that didn’t happen

After the first one or two people

So then I started making eye contact

And I noticed that people would see me

And they would know--

I would see the recognition

But then, you know

Nothing would happen

And it hit me

That they knew who I was

And they didn’t care

I made it down the block

And around

And around

And I kept going around

Because I was waiting

For somebody to stop me

And nobody did

And then my dog was getting tired

So I just...I just went home

But by then, my mind was racing

And I got in the car

And I started going places

Just anywhere, just--

The market, a couple of stores

The movie theater

I didn’t even see a movie

I just stood in the lobby

Eating licorice

Waiting for someone to say--

Oh my god, it’s you!

But nothing

By then, it was getting very late

And I decided to go dancing

And when I got to the club

There was a line, and I didn’t--

I was about to say

I didn’t try to cut the line

But I did

But the bouncer didn’t immediately recognize me

And I wasn’t about to debase myself

By telling him who I was

So I went to the back of the line

And once I was inside

They were playing a song

That I’d never heard of before

And I didn’t like the song

Or, rather

I didn’t know the song

So I went to the DJ

And I introduced myself

Because at that point, why not?

I asked if he would play

One of my songs

And he was such a sweet

Little gay boy

Very nice

And he played my song

And I went out on the dance floor

And everyone was loving it

Just loving the song

And there I was dancing

Amongst all these people

Who knew my song

And were loving my song

And had no idea

That I was standing there

In the middle of them

And I tried to enjoy that

As much as I could

I knew later on

It would be one of those

Reckoning moments

In the shower

Where you try to hold yourself together

As best you can

But in that moment

On the dance floor

I felt like myself again

And I hadn’t been able

To recognize that feeling

For a very long time

A Tall Man in a Little Room

There is a tall man

In a little room

As you can imagine

It is difficult being

A tall man

In a little room

The tall man would like

To leave the little room

But the little room

Has no doors and no windows

And even if it did

Have doors and windows

It’s likely those doors and windows

Would be little doors and windows

To fit the room

And so the tall man would never

Be able to use them

To leave the little room

So the tall man
Decided to do his best

To get used to

The little room

He sat quietly and he did not think about
All the other places he could be

Other than the little room

Instead, he moved in such a way

That he was on the floor

Of the little room

Looking up instead of down
And in that way

The little room looked much, much bigger

This is partly because--

And I suppose I should have

Told you this sooner

--The little room has no ceiling

Now, I know that most people would say

For a room to be a room

It must have walls, a floor

And a ceiling

But funnily enough

When I told you the room

Didn’t have doors or a window

You still thought it was a room

But something about it

Not having a ceiling

Might bother you for some reason

It certainly bothered

The tall man in the little room

Because while he wanted to leave the room

He had never left a room

By going out the ceiling

How would one even leave

Through a ceiling?

The tall man suspected

He might be tall enough

To climb right out of the little room

But what could be outside

Of the little room?

Might it be an even smaller room?

The tall man was laying on the floor

And the little room

Started to seem more cozy

When thinking about how the tall man

Could see everything in the room

Very clearly

And nothing in it

Was upsetting him very much

There was a little chair

And a little bookcase

With little books in it

And a little fireplace

With a little portrait above it

Of a very agreeable

Looking French bulldog named Skip

The tall man could see himself

Living a life in this little room

But he could also see himself

Leaving the room

By way of the ceiling

And being very glad to do so

Now, we’d like to ask you

If you were the tall man

What would you do?

You might think that you would

Hop right out of that little room

But think about a time

When you’ve been afraid

To do something quite brave

Nothing requires more bravery

Than facing the unknown

Even if you’re very tall

Even if you’re grown

The tall man in the little room

Got up off the floor

And decided he did want

To try and go out the top

And once he thought it

He just couldn’t stop

So up and out he went

And we haven’t seen him since

But we have a feeling

He’s doing well

But it’s hard to live a life

Only in a little room

Even if you’re very little

Because we all grow up

And out of it, don’t we?

And what kind of room

Doesn’t have a ceiling?

No room we’d want

To stay in

For very long