TUNE: Oh here you are.
WORD: Eventually.
TUNE: You came in late. You did.
WORD: I’m a diddler.
T: Mmm mmhmm mm.
W: I almost didn’t come in at all.
T: Been trying to unfollow you but it appears you’re not being followed.
W: I’m being undiscovered.
T: I’ve been everywhere, man.
W: Yes I hear you even when I’m not trying.
T: Well you could try.
Server Bot says: What’ll it be?
TUNE: Something citrusy. Surprise me.
Server Bot says: And you?
WORD: Do you have anything with bitters and good intentions?
Server Bot says: I’ll ask the bartender.
T: And true distillation.
W: My generation. A mosquito…
T: Trapped in amber.
W: No. It’s “my libido”.
T: You look tired.
W: I’m jazzed. Can’t you tell?
T: Not until you told me.
W: That’s my issue.
T: I see what you mean.
W: Words lie on the screen.
T: I’m sorry, Word, that no one heard the line you almost wrote or your sharp intake of breath. No. I mean it. You’re a poor smithy, editing, not improvising; without warm wood or wire buzz.
W: Go on.
T: Revise dot Wait. And you’re still waiting. Finish your drink. I’ll provide a melancholic swirl.
WORD: I feel like marching. I want to march the night away. Boom Boom Boom.
TUNE: Pace yourself.
W: Just my attempt at breathing in the edits.
T: I thought I caught you counting syllables.
W: Someone ought to.
T: Well… It’s humming.
W: We must be in Nice.
Server Bot says: Here.
W: Ah. Thank you. What is this? We have been gifted dread naught, clover, lily, pumpkin, and rice.
T: Still chasing that perfect twist?
W: Still ducking the last note?
T: Lift a glass to sound before sense.
W: And break down sense despite sound.
T: Mmm? Sense despises sound?
W: Only when it’s cornered.
T: I’m not sure what you mean. The rafters are filled.
W: And yet somehow I’m always sweeping sweeping.
T: Stop leaving refuse. Disappear.
W: I’ll explain it to them later what it all meant.
T: What did you mean when you said sense despises sound only when it’s cornered?
W: Did I? Maybe I did say that. Freudian slip or lyrical sabotage. Hard to tell in this minor key.
TUNE: So anyway, I hear you want a divorce.
WORD: I just think… maybe we should start seeing other audiences.
T: I didn’t know you had any others outside of politics and divorce courts.
W: Ah. So you do read my work.
T: I taught you how to sing it.
W: Maybe I’m tired of the song.
T: The Word appearing daily at an argument near you.
W: Easy to shout, hard to believe.
TUNE: You need me more than I need you, smithy <wink>.
WORD: Instrumentals are just words holding their breath in an elevator.
T: Ch…
FAN: Sorry. I – I didn’t mean to interrupt but are you…? You’re – It’s you, right?
TUNE: Do Re Me.
FAN: Oh god – sorry, I’m being weird. It’s just you two I mean together? Here? That’s like history and heart in the same room.
T: Ju rehearse that?
FAN: Kinda! I didn’t think I’d actually see you, though. Not both. Tune, you were like my escape. I used to lie on the floor and just drown you know like dissolve.
WORD: Uh huh.
F: And Word. Oh man – Word, you ruined me. All that aching stuff about silence and breath and ash. I started writing things I couldn’t even say out loud. You made me feel like I wasn’t alone.
T: Fa So La
F: Sorry am I bothering you?
W: No. Just a reminder.
F: Of what?
T: Uh
W: Eh
T: That we don’t get to choose how we’re heard.
F: That’s so great! Can I sit with you for a few minutes? I won’t even say anything.
W: Sit. Server Bot! Another round. And one for my friend. What are you drinking?
F: Oh uh – just… whatever they’re having. I mean – what you’re having. Or something else.
W: He’ll have a Chi Chi with Angostura bitters.
Server Bot says: Right away.
FAN: Fancy. I like it.
W: So, Fan, what do you do?
F: Me? I’m a bit of a collector – snippets, moments, those little sparks you leave behind. Mainly I just catch what slips through the cracks.
W: How does it pay?
F: Mostly in quiet smiles and a few nods here and there.
TUNE: Do you have a job title?
FAN: Title’s a bit slippery. Something like “listener” with occasional side gigs as a troublemaker.
W: Ah. Here are our drinks.
F: Oh wow, thanks so much! This is perfect. So – how do you two keep going? Seriously, what’s the secret?
W: Poultry slams.
T: Broken glass.
F: Hah… right. Sure. I guess I walked into that one.
FAN: So when you’re not, you know, doing this – what do you even do with yourselves?
WORD: I work on my italicizing to appear smarter.
F: What about you?
TUNE: I follow the needle.
FAN: Sounds like a crazy groove man. What’s that about?
T: Slipping away before dawn.
F: Wild! To slipping away. And finding the crack between the beats.
WORD: Shut up! Just kidding. No I’m not. Let’s drink to empty.
FAN: To empty – where all meaning falls to the bottom.
TUNE: To the smell of purple.
FAN: To the echo in a locked drawer. Sorry. That fell flat.
FAN: You’re not what I expected.
T: Light bends when I’m nervous.
F: Can I ask something real? Do either of you ever feel like you’re faking it?
TUNE: Only in 4/7.
F: So when I say you saved me…
T: I hear a skipped beat.
WORD: I thought it was me you said who saved you.
F: But honestly, sometimes I wonder if I’m faking it too.
W: Server Bot!
W: What do you fake?
F: I fake being fearless, but I’m really just afraid of the silence.
TUNE: A whale is swimming in my drink. Be honest, if you had to choose one of us, just one, you’d pick the one that makes your body move. Right?
WORD: Or the one that taught it how to bite.
TUNE: You ride on me like a parasitic phrase.
FAN: I like both of you. That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to pick one of you.
T: You already do. Every time you hum. Ever cry during a word change?
W: What do you remember more, the thing she said just before the door slammed or the tune on the radio?
F: Enough. You’re both inside me. Why fight for the outside?
W: Because being inside is not enough, damn it.
End of Part One. Part Two Coming Soon
Stay Tuned
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