Last Night in Three Acts

Act 1. Exposition
....................

In an open vehicle,
dusty roads
winding down a mountain
toward Athens.

It is daylight--
long road, bumpy ride
bright sun.

Sudden night.
Manila.
The house is full of people.
Party.

I try to figure out how much to pay driver,
write it on a piece of paper.
I don't have enough cash,
go to my room on the ground floor.

Mom has done something,
the walls are now of different texture.

Where are my notes?
I find a scrap of paper again at the bottom of the trash.
It's sludgy from party offal,
just drawings.
Where are the numbers?

Look at my watch.
With all the searching
an hour has passed, maybe two.

Poor man, still waiting.
I never even got him a glass of water.
Party noise starts to fade.

Act II. Revelation
....................

I go up to the indoor garden,
give him some water
and realize that I forgot the cash.

He starts speaking in a booming, strenuous voice
I don't understand what he says.
I don't understand his language.

First I'm scared, he's clearly insane.
I just want to give him his money--
finally, he seems to appreciate the gesture.

I go back to my room.
I find the money
but I realize I should put the money in an envelope.

I find an envelope but lose the money again
and I'm searching
through my bed, my table and things.
Someone is behind me in my room.

It's the driver.
He starts speaking in tongues again.

Here is your money, I tell him.
I'm sorry you waited so long.

Sudden silence
and the camera pans to his face.

He is Javier Bardem
and speaks in english.

That was a month ago in Athens, he tells me gently.
And I stagger.

In my heart,
I know that this is truth
and everything clicks into place in my head.

I've lost a month of my life.
He is someone I love or who loves me,
someone I care about
but I don't know why--
can't remember.

The wall in my room has changed again.
He shows me these beautiful carvings that he's made
for me.
A gift.

We lie in bed together,
him only in his underwear.
He talks to me qiuetly in an attempt
to restore the life that I lost.

Act 3. This is Where it Gets David Lynched
....................

Two women, my mother and the housekeeper,
are watching us on some closed circuit camera.
My mother is incensed.
Has he touched her, she bellows.
Has he?
The housekeeper silently shows her the footage in affirmation.
My mother says: he has to be killed.

Johnny Hallyday
swaggers in,
joins the unholy chorus on how
Javier Bardem must die.

I fly out of the room, enraged.
How dare you?
If you lay a finger on him
(I find a weapon, a fireplace poker)
I will kill YOU,
I will KILL you.

I'm weeping, I'm dead serious.
I want to scream louder,
make myself more believable,
more dangerous.

I am aghast, mocked by Johnny Hallyday.
I ask my mother who he was.
She admits that he has shacked up with her,
he's someone that she settled for
after my dad had died.

The loser taunts me
by showing off how he's comfortably esconced
and he has his own den in our house:
black and white floor,
outsized, primary colored furniture,
and a Phoca Groenlandica lounge sofa.
A what?!? I ask.
A baby seal, he says smugly.

That makes me angry again.
I brandish the poker and tell him:
I can't believe you have a baby seal
as a sofa.
You're a horror
and I will end you.
This time it's not an empty threat.

But then I see the thing.
This giant, soft-eyed baby seal.
I lie in its fur
and all my hatred dissipates.

Scene cuts to
darkness all around.
Velvet red curtains.
Spotlight on empty green stage.

THE END


Sometimes I have these vivid dreams.