What's Important (play)

Jim and Sarah enter, huddled together against the cold. They walk up to a heavy green door that is set deep in its frame. They pause, reading the menu that is pinned by the door.

Jim: See anything good?

Sarah: It all looks delicious. I’m happy with eating here.

Jim: That’s what’s important.

Jim opens the door. A large crowd of people are in the narrow hallway, pushing up against each other.

Jim: Wait here.

Sarah: Okay.

He enters. While he’s inside, Sarah walks to the front windows of the restaurant, and peers in at the people eating. After a moment, Jim appears by her side, still looking in.

Jim: We’re in luck. They can seat us in about twenty minutes.
*beat*
Do you want to wait inside?

Sarah: It’s okay. I like it out here.

Jim: It’s cold.

She takes his hand, still looking forward.

Sarah: It’s not so bad.

*beat*

Jim: I think that man’s waiting on a date.

Sarah: What?

Jim: The guy in there. Right in the middle. He looks excited.

Sarah: I don’t know. Do you think? Maybe.

Jim: Oh come on.

Sarah: What?

Jim: Don’t pretend that’s not what you were doing. Putting thoughts into their heads, wondering what they’re thinking, what they’re doing.

Sarah: Well, I guess…

Jim: I know you better than that, Sarah.

Sarah: Just because I’m a writer doesn’t mean—

Jim: What’s that couple thinking?

Sarah: …He’s thinking about leaving her... he’s thinking about his secretary. But I think she’s just thinking about dessert, right now.

Jim: See?

Sarah: Fine. You’re right, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Is it creepy to try to get inside people’s heads like that?

Jim: Sarah, it’s one of the things I love most about you.

*beat*

So they’re breaking up, huh?

Sarah: Not yet. But probably. Time wounds all heels or… however that expression goes.

Jim: You’re the English major here.

Sarah: Either way. What’s going on over there isn’t important. He’s happy, she’s happy, it all amounts to the same thing, for tonight anyway.

Jim: So if you weren’t thinking about them, who?

She points to the man sitting by himself.

Jim: Oh. Blind-date guy.

Sarah: Him, yeah, but I don’t think he’s on a blind date. Look at his eyes. He’s not just excited, he’s in love. See the way he’s fidgeting with his briefcase? I think he’s going to propose tonight. And to a wonderful woman.

Jim: …Wonder-girl is late.

Sarah: She just wanted to make sure she looks her best tonight, that’s all. It’s a special occasion.

Sarah turns her attention to the couple again. Jim notices her watching and draws her closer.

Sarah: Thanks… it’s cold.

Jim: I know.

An attractive woman passes by them, and the man looks up to see her pass by the window. He brightens immediately-- she doesn't seem to notice him. She then enters the restaurant.

Jim: You really think that guy’ll propose?

Sarah: I’m always at my most optimistic when I’m with you. It’s a good night. I don’t see why not.

The woman approaches the table with the man sitting alone.

Sarah: ...I love you.

The woman sits down. The man gently grabs her hands, and looks her in the eyes. After a few words, the woman starts crying, and then takes off her ring. The man looks horrified, then completely expressionless. He gets up, leaves the table and the restraunt, bumping violently past Jim as he goes.

Sarah looks close to tears.

Jim: Hey, let’s go inside and get warm. I’ll bet they’ll have a table for us any minute now.

Sarah turns and looks at him.

Jim: How about this. Let’s go back to my place. I can make you mac and cheese. Even some chocolate milk.

Sarah: That sounds delicious. I’m happy with that.

Jim: That’s what’s important.

Please Please Please (poetry)

Allow me, at least, to protest the idea that the moment had been planned.
Promiscuity lingered in both our minds, of course,
And we were in my bed long before the crucial instant arrived,
before my fingers left yours to nervously scratch at the hem of your jeans.

But believe me when I say that the breathless shock I felt
When I kissed you for the first time
was genuine.

I never planned to have it happen. But...
...but we both thought of it. I can't deny that.
When your roommate, your stalker, and your proteges,
And my friends, and my brothers, and my former lover,
had left the two of us alone,
and we were faced with no more excuses for our shared procrastination,
I asked if you'd like to see that movie we had both reminisced about.
And you paused.

Perhaps this was the crucial instant.
After thinking one thousand thoughts I'll never know,
When you said yes, and went to your room for booze,
did you hope to find courage at the bottom of the bottle?

The alcohol filled our heads with sand,
and as physical contact sent shock crackling through our minds,
is it any wonder that we were reduced to glass?

The water that had been draining away into the ocean past our feet,
sucking them into the sand and fixing us in place,
had crashed back into us in this one
unexpected wave.
And the water pulled away again,
but now you were nowhere to be found.


You told me later how you had bruised like an apple,
all the while believing you were still wearing
the protective skin of an orange.
But you've never liked metaphors,
and you still scrunch your nose,
and claim not to understand,
how you could be any kind of fruit.

Oaf (poetry)

I know the ecstasy of words.
They inch through my mind,
itching to be pronounced,
waiting for some still-unrealized beauty
to blossom across their features.
I feel them aching in their sleep.

And then they tumble heavily from my mouth,
And smash against the ground.
Betrayed by my own oafish voice
They writhe, gasping as they stare up in shock.


But I can only apologize so many times.