Goldberg Street (16 page)

Where we moved back. (
Pause
.)

Where we retired. (
Pause
.)

“Do you remember that night?” we would say . . .

Thirteen

Sam:
Where were you? You weren't there. You know what it means to me when you're late. There's going to come a
time when this is life and death, these assignations.

You never fulfill my instructions. You don't.

Do you think that I
care
?

Do you know what I care about?
Loyalty
.

Do you think that I care for six
minutes
?

Eh? What do you think I
am
? Don't you
see
. . . ?

There's going to come a time when this is life and
death
.

There are things going on, there are things going on in this country you cannot be imprecise. You can
not
. . . ! (
Pause
.)

And it just takes you ages to leave anywhere. (And you can't keep your fucking mouth shut.) Do you think that I care for
appearances
? What I care for (What I care for miss) (yes) is
survival
.
Survival
.

(You're so secure . . . )

What do you know? You don't know what life is. You know
nothing
.

Fourteen

Kevin:
He brought the coffee, it was very good. I lit a cigarette, I looked at her. She smiled.

I have something for you, she said.

Oh, what?

A thing . . . something. She took a package from her purse, she gave it to me. She smiled.

Shall I open it? Yes, open it.

She's bought me a gold lighter. (
Pause
.)

It's lovely, I said. (
Pause
.) You shouldn't have.

She'd had it engraved with my name. And then “I love you,” and her name. It's lovely, I said.

Do you like it?

Yes, I said, you shouldn't have.

She smiled. (
Pause
.) You don't like it.

No, I like it very much, it's lovely.

No. You don't.

I do.

No.

Yes, I do, I told her. (
Pause
.) You shouldn't have though.

No? (
Pause
.) Why? (
Pause
.) Why? (
Pause
.)

Look, I told her. We are friends (are we friends?).

What do you mean “friends"? What?

We are friends, I want to be your friend, I said. (
Pause
.)

What does this mean, she asked me.

Please, not now, I said.

No. Now. Now, please, what does this mean? (
Pause
.)

Look, I told her.

No, she said. Don't tell me this. (
Pause
.) No, don't do this.

Keep your voice down.

I don't care. (
Pause
.)
I
don't care . . .

He came back and he stopped and asked if we'd like some more coffee . . .

No, she said, don't tell me this. (
Pause
.) No. She started crying.

Are you alright, I said? What? (
Pause
.) No. Would you like something? Something?
What
? I don't know, can I get you something? (Do we have to do this here?) (
Pause
.) Would you like to leave? (
Pause
.) Shall we leave?

Leave me alone. She got up, he came over to pull out her chair but she was gone. I sat there. (
Pause
.)

He asked me if I'd care for something else. (
Pause
.) Some more coffee . . . (
Pause
.) What? No. (
Pause
.) Yes.

“I love you.” (
Pause
.) I lit a cigarette.

Fifteen

Patti:
Come here come here.

I know what you want.

You don't have to say it.

I know.

You don't have to say you want it.

I know.

I know; you don't want it. I know.

But come here.

It's alright.

I'm here.

Come on.

No.

Come on.

Yes.

Come here.

You lie down, now.

That's alright.

You lie down.

Good.

That's good.

Good.

Now be quiet. You be quiet now.

I know.

Now I am going to make you feel good.

I know.

You be quiet, now. That's alright.

I know what you want. (
Pause
.)

You don't have to tell me that you want it.

That's alright.

You just be still now.

That's alright. (
Pause
.)

Good.

Sixteen

Sam:
The problems of the universe. We are programmed to love our loved ones, all our paramours, our wives, our husbands. (
Pause
.) We are programmed to love our race. To help our race survive.

This is a chemic fiat, and what does it have, I ask you, what, to do with metaphysics? Neither
are
there metaphysics, no. But only more increasingly occult degrees of understanding—hidden, though, only because of our interminable arrogance—Our race-conceit. (Is it true?) We are the stuff that rocks are made of and cannot be broken of the
habit of an intuition of some specialness—
(Pause
.)

We are the fish.

When it all comes to chemicals.

Where are our mothers, now? Where are they? In the moment of our death, or birth, of orgasm or hunger?

When it all comes down to carbon, or to hydrogen?

In cities where we kill for comfort—for a moment of reprieve from our adulterated lives—for fellow-feeling. (
Pause
.) (I have eyelashes, too . . . )

Some night when you have been up half the night alone when you have read instructions on the phone book, eh?

Then, when the walls scream. Eh?

Who'd sell our soul just to be ratified, in taxicabs, in some resort, along the cradle, by a touch (a friend, our mother . . . ) who would make the world go. (
Pause
.)

One moment of release.

Psychic reprieve.

(Oh, God, what are we doing here?)

We are uprooted.

We have no connection. (
Pause
.)

We beat each other by the docks or dressed in jackboots and in uniforms, and preen in passing windows just like everyone.

Our life is garbage.

We take comfort in our work and cruelty. We love the manicurist and the nurse for they hold hands with us. Where is our mother now? We woo with condoms and a ferry ride; the world around us crumples into chemicals, we stand intractable, and wait for someone competent to take us ‘cross the street. (
Pause
.)

Where are our preceptors now? Or at the moment of death, and would
you
not do all you can, forsaking anything, for one swift moment of surcease? (The battered bodies, news photographers, pulp analyses, (
Pause
.) crimson sheets . . . )

My god, we've done what we should not have. (
Pause
.)

I'm sure we must have.

Seventeen

Patti:
We wait for someone—

Kevin:
Tie me up and beat me.

Patti:
Look, I told him, look, what do I care if I am right for you or not (for me or not) (if you are . . . ?)

All I only care is do I want to be with you (because I want to be with you) and that you would make me happy.

Kevin:
Yes, I swear to God that if I have to spend another Sunday evening by myself that I am going to blow my brains out.

Patti:
Look:

Kevin:
Now is this so unreasonable?

Sam:
Precious anomalies of lovers’ flesh, quirks of behavior, heartbreaking inside curves of thigh. (
Pause
.) The curriculum of small cabals that we endeavor to create or to prolong . . .

Patti:
(Don't stop . . . )

Sam:
. . . The search for an exclusive union redolent of saltwater and gun oil; alcohol on cotton balls after tattooing, soap, and liquid-paper . . .

Kevin:
Individuating qualities.

Like fires burnt out on the beach.

Sam:
(The orthographical misjudgments in her love letters . . . )

Patti
(
Pause
)
:
Yes.

Sam:
Our small cabals. (
Pause
.) And why not?

Kevin:
Secret moon-borne signals are denied us, and we spill our seed upon the ground. (
Pause
.)

At the moment of our death we still embrace catholicism or the flag or reach for our executors. (
Pause
.)

Our great epiphany by some bizarre concidence comes at the moment of our death.

Sam:
When they get deep. (
Pause
.) Women, when they moan,
they go nuts and their voices get deep. They are saying “look (I think) this is not what you think it is,” they're saying “look.” (
Pause
.)

Kevin:
So enthrall to that saline flesh.

Sam:
(Yes.)

Patti:
We know the organism is by no means perfect. We can admit the possibility of some divine control (or absence of control). Of some Much Greater plan, or oversight. We recognize this in the body, we can see the flesh is far from perfect. We are the repositories of disease and physical disaster. This is patent, and we see that something is mistaken. (
Pause
.) What if this undignified and headlong thrusting toward each other's sex is nothing but an oversight or physical malformity? (
Pause
.)

Should we not, perhaps, retrain ourselves to revel in the sexual act not as the consummation of predestined and regenerate desire, but rather as a two-part affirmation of our need for solace in extremis.

Kevin:
(Goodnight.)

Patti:
In a world where nothing works.

Sam:
No.

Patti:
In which we render extreme unction with our genitalia. (
Pause
.)