one thing today

  In summertime in quiet wood and friendly shade from secret regions of myself my soul screams the question ancient as man and older than the sound of human song Must we die so soon? Must we sicken and suffer and cry for comfort? Must great men and infants be plucked from our midst well before their time by the thousand awful plagues that steal inside us? If we can build a nation out of virgin land                                                                                                                                                ...

  A man in his forties bangs on the knocker of a brownstone. A woman with a flat affect opens the door. Bill Hello, Diane. Diane He’ll be down in a minute.   Bill What’s he doing? Diane He’s learning to tie his shoe.  Bill He’s advanced.  His bilateral integration is off the charts. Despite herself, she releases a constrained giggle.  Bill contd What?  Diane Nothing,  Nothing.  Bill It’s true.  Diane I guess it’s true then. Bill It is.  ( pause ) I like your new haircut.  Diane Yeah.  Sure.  Right.   Bill Oh, come on now, D. Be nice. It’s easier than you think.  Diane I’m going to the kitchen.  He’ll be right down.  She slams the door. He knocks again. She opens the door. Bill Why do you have to be so goddamn horrid?  Diane Because I want to be.  Because I ...