Home:Theatre
for Ray Bradbury and Joseph Cornell
The Set:
A white, one bedroom house
with black chain-link fence,
postage stamp yards
fore and aft.
A green peace flag
on the tiled patio.
Interior and exterior
tended to by Mexican
maid and gardener.
Protagonists:
Single dad,
his adolescent daughter,
two computers.
Supporting Cast:
A slow parade of Dad's
friends and acquaintances,
an oft ringing phone,
the language of protest,
his biennial girlfriends,
the Mom's absence,
a neurotic, largely ignored dog.
Opening shot:
Rainy weekend afternoon,
Dad's most recent ex approaches,
pauses at the front door,
looks through,
sees the two figures
at their computers.
Zoom to the man's hand,
the thick whorl of hair
at the lifted, thinnish wrist,
as he absently strokes
a salt and pepper goatee.
Cut to the daughters back,
her head bobbing,
earphones snugged
in her unadorned ears.
Cut back to the ex,
she raises her arm
as if to knock,
she notes the abandoned
Paraguayan harp,
the upright piano;
several wood flutes,
maracas, a tambourine,
huddled together in a wicker basket.
Voice over:
"Musical instruments
as cultural props,
tchotchkes,
dusted biweekly by the maid;
having naught to do with
the making of music."
Zoom out:
She places her hand
deliberately
in her pocket,
rests her head
against the window
for two counts,
exhales and exits.
----------------
A picture traced
in San Diegan dust;
a vapor angel
on a cool, wet
March-morning window.
