When You're Back in Town

     (Two phone calls.)

FRIEND:  Hello?

VISITOR:  Hey!

FRIEND:  Oh hey!  What's up?

VISITOR:  I'm here.

FRIEND:  Here where?

VISITOR:  Uh, at the airport.

FRIEND:  Which airport?

VISITOR:  The one in Antarctica.  The one down the road from you?

FRIEND:  Oh, we don't have roads here, so--

VISITOR:  Remember I told you I was--

FRIEND:  Oh my gosh, you did, didn't you?  Wait, is it Friday?

VISITOR:  Uh, yeah it is.

FRIEND:  Is it the 29th?

VISITOR:  Yeah.

FRIEND:  IS IT NOVEMBER?

VISITOR:  ...Yes.

FRIEND:  Wow, I am so sorry.  I have just been--Wow, I've been swamped.  Literally, we were looking at swamp samples the other day and--

VISITOR:  They have swamps here?

FRIEND:  No, but we're trying to create a swamp.

VISITOR:  Why?

FRIEND:  No idea.  Bees or something.  Science, right?

VISITOR:  Um, so--but like--do you still want to get together?

FRIEND:  Uhhhhhhh god, I mean, ugh, I know, you came all the way here--

VISITOR:  Yeah.

FRIEND:  --To Antarctica.

VISITOR:  Yeeeeeah.

FRIEND:  I just--God, I am so sorry.  This week has just been--

VISITOR:  Yeah, I mean, it kind of took me a week to get here.

FRIEND:  I know.

VISITOR:  But you said you'd love to see me--

FRIEND:  I would!  Oh my god, I would LOVE to see you.

VISITOR:  Well.  (A beat.)  I'm here.

FRIEND:  Yeah.  How long are you here again?

VISITOR:  Uh.  Just, like, tonight.  There really aren't hotels here or anything, so--

FRIEND:  Yeah.

VISITOR:  Didn't realize that when I planned the rest of the trip, so--

FRIEND:  I should have mentioned--

VISITOR:  No, it's totally not your fault.

FRIEND:  Right, but--

VISITOR:  I mean, if I could, like, I guess, crash at your place or--

FRIEND:  Oh, yeah, you know, I don't know if you know this, but I live with the other scientists?

VISITOR:  Right.

FRIEND:  It's just, like, super awkward to have...non-scientists here.

VISITOR:  I mean, I'm a botanist.

FRIEND:  Yeah, that's not--I mean, that is a science, but it's not like the science we do, you know?  Not that it's not a real science.  It's just not a science anybody cares about.

VISITOR:  I could crash on the couch--

FRIEND:  We don't have a couch.

VISITOR:  Where do you sit?

FRIEND:  It's, like, really close quarters, so we just sit on the bed.  The one bed.  There are, like, five of us and we all--It's really weird, but, you know, it's the polar vortex or whatever--so we just all crash in the same bed together, and, like, sometimes stuff happens, but usually we don't, because it scares the penguins.

VISITOR:  They have penguins here?

FRIEND:  I think so?  I can't remember which pole has which.  Is this the one with the bears?

VISITOR:  It's just--I mean, it's not a big deal, but you were kind of like--Oh, if you come here, you can stay with me--

FRIEND:  Yeah, and I mean, I definitely FEEL that way?  But, um, now that it's time to actually DO it?  How I FEEL?  Is like...It's like Ew, why did I say that?  You know what I mean?  Like, ugh, I'm so dumb.  I have so much going on.  Where would I put the swamp water while you're here?  The entire residence is basically just swamp water and a bed with five scientists in it.  And the pool table, but, like, obviously you're not going to sleep on that.

VISITOR:  Okay, well, I guess I could just...go home.

FRIEND:  Ugh, I feel so bad.  Maybe you could like--hit me up again when you're back in town?

     (A beat.)

VISITOR:  You mean when I'm back in...Antarctica?

FRIEND:  Yeah!  Are you coming back anytime soon?  Like in the near future?

VISITOR:  Uh...No.  Hadn't--hadn't planned on it.

FRIEND:  Okay.

VISITOR:  Did you really just ask me that?

FRIEND:  I mean--

VISITOR:  It took five planes and two boats to get here.  And a dogsled, which I didn't even know was still a thing.

FRIEND:  I get that you're mad, but, like, things come up, plans change--

VISITOR:  I FLEW TO ANTARCTICA!

FRIEND:  And that was so awesome of you, and, like, trust me, if I could go back in time and talk to the me who was like You should come here! I'd be like Why are you saying that you stupid idiot?  You're going to be so tired next week doing all that swamp stuff and spooning the other scientists.  Don't tell them to come visit.  But, like, the me I was last week is not the me I am now, and I can only apologize on behalf of that me and not present me, because present me is innocent in all this.

VISITOR:  Okay, well if I can't crash here, can you at least come to the airport and say hi?

(A beat.)

FRIEND:  Ugh, I'm just...so beat, you know?

VISITOR:  Um, so am I.  I've been traveling for days.

FRIEND:  Right, ugh, and like, I'm so sorry on your behalf, or my behalf, but, like, it doesn't change how I'm feeling at this moment, and today is sort of a self-care day for me so--

VISITOR:  So you're not even going to do the bare minimum when it comes to--

FRIEND:  I could, like, send you a selfie of me if that'll--

VISITOR:  No.

FRIEND:  Or we could Facetime?

VISITOR:  No.

FRIEND:  Do you want to maybe plan for next month provided I feel like it when the time comes which I really won't know about until a few hours before?

VISITOR:  YOU ARE SO INCONSIDERATE.

     (A beat.)

FRIEND:  Okay, yelling is not called for and I hope there are no penguins where you are.

VISITOR:  No, thank you.

FRIEND:  I really don't want you to be mad.

VISITOR:  Then let me sleep on your pool table and mildly inconvenience you.

FRIEND:  Okay, I guess it's fine if you're mad.

VISITOR:  Good-bye.

     (VISITOR hangs up.)

FRIEND:  Wait, are there flowers in a swamp?

     The End

Paint It Black

Gonna sit against this door

Until I know it’s quiet

I’ll know

When the car outside

Stops revving

Up

Its engine

I’ll know

When the low-flying planes

Finally land

I’ll know

When to inch my back

Up alongside

The red red door

And reach for the knob

And twist

They’re going to tell me

It’s already quiet

But if you don’t know

How to hear

How do you know

The difference

Between noise

And sound?

If you were never taught

To see

How can you tell a color

From the lost light

That takes it to blue

Or green?

If you’ve only ever been afraid

What would look

Like courage

To you?

I’m just going to sit

Against this door

And when I get up

I’ll look for

What looks like

Courage

In a world

Full of cowards

The other side of the room

Has another kind of door

That leads to a basement

Where I won’t know

My own home anymore

You live above ghosts

And they don’t bother you

Because there’s a door

And then there’s you

Funny what we think

A door can protect us from

We run from someone

And slam the door

And the lock goes down

And we’re safe

But it’s a few inches of wood

Or metal

Or steel

And other than that

It’s us hugging the thing

We don’t want to touch

Right now I’m sitting here

With back

Up against those inches

Telling myself

That I’m away from the harm

Separate from the danger

In the light

In the color

In the sound

But it’s…

You tell a story

And you take it

Take it back

Does that make it a lie?

Have I lied to you yet?

Upstairs I can’t go

There’s too much

To figure out

Up there

And whatever’s soft

Is to put you to sleep

And whatever’s warm

Is to burn you

When you get used

To the heat

And whatever’s love

Is just two ticks of a clock

That stopped working

A long time ago

I want to stay here

Where I can hear

The feet on grass

The safety off

The news report

The shoveled dirt

The hose

The flat tire

The gross misconduct

The accusation

The dented mailbox

The call to arms

And then--

A break

What will I hear then?

It won’t matter

By then I won’t know

What sound is

But maybe courage

Maybe

Maybe courage

Maybe

Something

Like that

The Hansel and Gretel Press Roll-Out

You’re doing 60 Minutes

In two days

I think you’re in the A Block

But I might be wrong about that

It depends on what happens

Between now and then

Two kids exiled by their parents

Into the woods

And kidnapped by a pagan

Living in a diabetes hut

Is good

But these days…

Your father was on The Today Show

He was saying that you’re not being truthful

About why he kicked you out of the house

He says your stepmother had nothing to do with it

That you were--

That he just suggested

You go for a walk

And the only reason he didn’t call the authorities

When you didn’t come back that night

Was because he thought a wolf ate you

Your stepmother is saying that both of you

Are making up your story entirely

Even though we have the gingerbread samples

You provided

And they do match bits of other kinds of bread

We’ve collected near the bodies

Of other murdered witches

Your stepmother is also insinuating

That you two had an...inappropriate relationship

For two siblings

Although the media doesn’t want to go anywhere near that

Not the reputable media, anyway

The fringe circuit is eating it up

Reddit is exploding with theories

That the real Hansel and Gretal were killed in the woods

And that you two are changelings

Sent back from the forest

To destroy humanity

Someone even recreated the breadcrumb trail

And determined that it was impossible

For all those crumbs to be eaten by birds

But obviously we’re going to refute that

We’re going to refute all of it

And as long as you two stay on message

I think we’ll be fine

You’re survivors

You’re victims

You’re heroes

Just keep falling back on the talking points
And do not admit that you willingly entered the house

Because the focus group says if you went in voluntarily

Sympathy for you goes down significantly

Nobody cares if you were cold or hungry

People want to believe that they would have the good sense

To recognize a witch’s house if they saw one

And you not knowing what it was

The minute you saw it

Means people think you’re dumb

And nobody feels bad for dumb people

Even dumb children

Gretel, I need the pigtails back

They love you with the pigtails

Hansel, the overalls

That’s your look

We talked about this

You never take those off

You two are growing way too fast

For the narrative we’re trying to create here

And if we can’t do something about that

Then we’re in deep shit

Because ‘Teens Nearly Eaten by Candy Woman’

Is not a story I can run with

And I can run with just about anything

Do not talk about eating the candy

Everybody knows you don’t eat candy

Given to you by a stranger

Let alone a stranger in the woods

So if you admit to eating that candy

We are screwed

Because at that point

You’ve essentially confessed

To kind of maybe giving consent

Which is all the consent you need

For public damnation

And no, it doesn’t matter

That once you found out she was a witch

You wanted to leave

If you went in the gingerbread house

Of your own free volition

Then everything after that--

Including her trapping Hansel

And trying to fatten him up for consumption

--Is fair game

Speaking of which--

We need to talk about your weight

The both of you

How much you weigh

You’re entirely too skinny

Skinny is great

But too skinny isn’t fun to watch

And we need you to be

Fun to watch

So I’m going to ask you

To eat this bucket of chicken
And when you’re done

I want you to stick out your fingers

And let me feel them

So I know you’re putting on some pounds

Because my eyes aren’t what they used to be

This is the price of fame, kids

If you want to eat the candy

You gotta get in the cage

Everything Bitter, Everything Late

How am I going to sleep

When across the street

The Wilsons are throwing a party

Vanessa Wilson called me this afternoon

To tell me all about the preparations

Only remembering to invite me

Just as the call was about to end

I told her about my headaches

And how I need to avoid

Too much social interaction

For the time being

She tried to catch her relief

The way one might stifle a yawn

But you can always tell

What was supposed to be there

Leaning against the stove

I notice a nickel-sized stain

On my otherwise undistinguished

Countertops

The loaded laughter from across the street

Makes its way through my poor insulation

And reminds me

That I’m neither for or of this world

The world being one or two cocktails

New dresses from a department store

A hairstyle maintained from Friday

Into Saturday evening

Everything bitter

Everything late

The itch at the back of my neck

Won’t go away

And I wonder what kind of illness

I might have

I refilled my glass for the first time

Just as the guests began arriving

At the Wilson house

They’re parked up and down the street

And a few are outside smoking

Speaking loudly but not angrily

Which is a fine trick

Only inebriated people

Know how to pull off

Inside my bathroom

The water runs
Because I couldn’t be bothered

To turn anything off today

There is no religious reason for this

Just a lack of interest

In bringing anything

To a halt

Let the water run

Let the lights buzz

Let the currents run through

My empty, empty house

Let it feel alive

In whatever way it can

Laying on my bed

I tell myself a story

About a little girl

Who grew up

To be rich and popular

With so many friends

It was impossible to see them all

And so she died of sadness

Knowing that it was possible

To only truly love

A few people at a time

Maybe just one

And if you chose the wrong one…

The Wilson house catches on fire

Sometime around three am

The party had just ended

Less than an hour before

And so Vanessa and her husband

Were still awake

And able to flee their residence

Before it was reduced to ashes

Not all fires consume

But this one did

And it left nothing

Worth rebuilding

I was asleep

And so deeply

That not even the whining sirens

Of the fire engine

Could rouse me

Upon waking the next day

I found that I now had a view

Of Porter Street

That had never been there before

And this tickled me

Before I realized

Why it would be so

Shortly after finding yourself envious

You will occasionally find yourself

Pitying those who you envied

I pitied the Wilsons

And their grand and garish home

That would never be so again

That night, Vanessa Wilson slept on my couch
And I had to do all my drinking

Alone in my room

With the door locked

As if she would try to get in

Were I to let her

But Vanessa just lay there on the couch

Her husband downstairs in my basement

Finding himself aroused

At the thought of a fire

That couldn’t be put out

While his wife tried sleeping

In a room meant for living

Telling herself a story

Not even she could believe