August 11, 2008
For a while before his death in April 2008, non-blogger Myrln (aka W. A. Frankonis, i. frans nowak), posted here on Kalilily Time some kind of rant or other every Monday. Our daughter, who has salvaged his published, performed, and none-such writings, continues to send me some to post posthumously.
This is one.
Very deliberately, he begins going through his pockets and removing the contents. He removes the coat. He removes the jacket. He removes the vest. Bring back the old man’s wishes. Bring back the old man’s hat. Bring back the old man’s wishes.
Enter an old man who moves to a bench and sits. He wears a heavy topcoat, a suit, vest, old shoes.
Coat: one glove, a crumpled handkerchief, a cigar butt.
Jacket: one key, a stub of paper, a broken pencil, an empty matchbook, a red balloon.
Vest: one paper clip, a creased snapshot.
Trousers: a second crumpled handkerchief, a penny, a hole in the pocket, a stone.
He sits, moving his hand from object to object without touching any of them.
(Sound in.)
Small girl: (singing)
(Slow fade to black)
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