Inside. Outside. That started inside. On second thought (or maybe it was the one immediately after that) that started outside. There was a couple of shadows inside and perhaps you might recall them. However, there was also a couple outside the establishment as it is sometimes referred to and this couple outside also stand like shadows since the days pass by more quickly as all involved are older. The shadows, that is, the couple outside you would not have encountered before unless it depends on who you begin with and if one can include anything that might reside within the establishment of the empty margins. The narrowing margins. Denton: I have a reference.
Sandra: Don't be contradictory.
Denton: I'm not. It's just that my reference hasn't gotten me a letter yet. Once I get that then they'll consider me. My application will be able to go further.
Sandra: Have you reminded them how important this is?
Denton: Of course. Every moment I can remember to remind them.
Sandra: I'll try to be better about making sure you remind him.
Denton: I need to write things down so that it can be outside my head and not inside forever trapped in the swirling maelstrom of anxious cognition.
Sandra: No doubt.
Denton: You seem preoccupied.
Sandra: Just noticing the woman inside at that booth with the man. She looks like she's crying.
Denton: I can't tell.
Sandra: Well, don't stare.
The couple inside stare at each other. The silence continues for a couple of minutes. The waiter stops by them.
Waiter: Any ideas about what you both might want?
Dora: Give us more time, please.
Waiter: You bet.
Sam: Are you crying?
Dora: No. It's my allergies.
Sam: Are you sure? It could be both.
Dora: No doubt.
Sam: What are those papers you have?
Dora: Some scribbling.
Sam: Like what?
Dora: A poem I've been trying to finish.
Sam: Is it depressing as usual?
Dora: What do you think?
Sam: Well, if your expression is any indication.
Dora: My expression. Which is so well read. My depression which is so indicative.
Sam: Sounds like a poem right now.
Outside Sandra begins to walk away from Denton.
Sandra: Now can we go?
Denton: Can we just sit down on this bench and look at the birds?
Sandra: There are no birds.
Denton: No birds. A title has been planted.
Sandra: Let's go home and you can water it.
Denton: Wait. I need more time to let the idea of "no birds" expand before it's watered.
Sandra: I wish there were some birds. Don't see many anymore.
Inside Sam reaches towards Dora's bunch of papers.
Sam: Anymore images? Anymore visions? For us.
Dora: Less poetic phrases. They're being gradually replaced by legal ones.
Sam: Take out the poem. I promise I'll listen without my usual defensiveness.
Dora takes one piece of paper out of the bunch and looks at it for a moment.
Sam: Is that it? It looks rather brief.
Dora: No. The poem goes on for quite a bit. To the point where I have trouble finishing it. This is just a phone number.
Sam: For who?
Dora: A therapist.
Sam: Someone who'll make us look inside when what we need is to search beyond.
Dora: You've always thought that the answer is out there. Maybe this therapist from outside our little tangled world could help. We need someone who can be objective.
Sam: That's not what I mean.
Outside Sandra is growing impatient.
Sandra: Can you explore the meaning of no birds at home? You remind me how important your solitude is to discover the freedom from meaning ideology within the relativistic space of your isolation.
Denton: I'm just referring to expansion that's all. If the patch of earth is too small to water then just fuck it. That's all.
Sandra: There's mostly concrete and gravel here.
Denton: That's what I'm getting at. The lack of that is stirring that need for the patch of earth. I want my patch of earth.
Sandra: I think that couple must think we're crazy.
Denton: They look too involved in their conversation.
Sandra: No, the ones in that car over there.
Denton: Which car?
Sandra: The one with the couple sitting in it over there. The black car.
Denton: The one that looks all funereal?
Sandra: I was going to say "bad ass."
Denton: Funereal can be bad ass.
Sandra: That's your opinion.
Denton: And I wonder what theirs is.
Inside Dora is reading from another paper that has her poem.
Dora: You move outside
While I stay inside
The divide grows
Between the cracks
Of our confinement
Opinions and disconnections
Serving each other's
Agenda for moving outside
While I stay inside
Digging and getting dirtier
My smell revolts you
To continue your advance
Away from me toward
Your retreat from my advancement
Inward in the opposite direction
Of your throwing off our shelter
Towards your outside
Escaping from my yearning
Within the widening gap
Bring the walls closer together
To give me the satisfaction of
Just a little friction
Not to be as you disappear outward
Away from . . .
In the black car outside a couple is discussing whether to get out.
Desiree: I thought you said you've never been here before.
Sandy: I must have forgotten. I have a horrible memory.
Desiree: Well, we can go to my place and I'll make something. It would work out better so I can finish my treatment plans.
Sandy: All work and no play.
Desiree: Work preceded by play. Play is important.
Sandy: I know. How long have you been a play therapist?
Desiree: Gosh. It's been so long. All I know is that I enjoy it much better than all that writing stuff like poetry. It just goes around in a circle.
Sandy: Why don't we just eat here so you don't have to be in the proximity of writing your treatment plans just yet?
He is about to open the car door.
Desiree: Are you sure? Now you want to go in after your traumatic formation when we pulled in to the parking lot and you had your dark memory restored?
Sandy: You're gonna use your psychobabble on me?
Desiree: What do you want? In or out?
Sandy: We've only started this relationship and it's already in or out?
Desiree: I just want to encourage you to make up your mind. You just seemed so against this establishment.
Sandy: Establishment.
Desiree: Well?
Sandy: Can we just take a moment? Give me some time. Aren't therapists supposed to be patient? Can't we just select the middle between in and out for just a bit. Can't that be an option?
Denton and Sandra are sitting on the bench together.
Denton: I know you don't like poetry or when I really take up our time so I can experience something.
Sandra: I don't mind you wanting to experience something.
Denton: It's like I hear the words about being between birds and no birds.
Dust blows into my eyes
Making them appear to weep
For nothing in particular
Except no birds
Forever doesn't last
And what can't last
Seems to go on forever
The wind from elsewhere
Brings no birds
- Max Stoltenberg
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