How are you?
Oh no. Why?
How much time, patience and empathy do you have?
Not much to be honest.
In that case I’m okay, thanks.
Glad to hear it.
How are you?
Great! Never better!
Isn’t it exhausting to speak like that?
I admire your gravity-defying feats of language.
Is that a complement?
I love you. I can’t live without you.
Steady on. That’s a bit premature.
Sorry. I get carried away.
I’m starting to like you.
I’m starting to like you too.
What do we do now?
Get to know each other?
Good plan. What sort of a person are you?
I’m… I’m… I’m…
No rhyming! I beg you!
What are your political leanings?
I sway left, veer right, with a tenuous foothold in the centre. You?
Call me a fool but I believe we should let the right one in.
What about that famine, eh?
What about those floods?
If it’s not one thing it’s another.
I think this calls for a drink.
I like how you think.
It feels like I’ve known you my whole life.
Me too! What are the odds!
My soul has its period.
My tongue is flaccid.
I think our roles have got muddled up.
We had roles?
Not really my cup of tea.
How is your stool?
It’s so perfectly formed it usually ends with a singular little paraph. Yours?
It turns out we’re quite different after all.
Who would have thought it? We seemed made for each other.
Like a two-piece jigsaw puzzle!
Like a snout and a muzzle!
Well, at least we will have some happy memories to nibble on in times of famine.
It’s a morsel of consolation.
What will you do now?
I think I’ll watch something.
No, I mean with your life.
Oh, that. Find a tall building, admire the panoramic view. You?
Find a bridge, admire the fast-flowing current of the river below.
It will be sad to part.
The end of an era.
But our monologue will spill over into new and exciting forms.
We can know ourselves through specular screens
We can have drunk misery sex
We can concretize sighs through cigarettes
We can do porno puzzles
We can snap ourselves senseless
We can be loving doing it
We can terrorize in veils of anonymity
We can vomit up wordy hate
We can be disincarnate
We can cure ugly
I miss you already.
Can we fix this?
No, my love, we cannot.
Still, we get what we deserve, right?
Teleologically, arguably, ultimately, perversely, uh-huh.
It’s been a genuine pleasure knowing you.
It’s been lovely spending time with you.
Will you be okay?
No. So what will you do now?
Probably watch something. You?
Who, me? To the end of the world that lies in the city that lies on a map that sits on a dusty shelf is where the time that wasn’t when I knew it came to an end and began again so many times that I lost count until it struck me on the head how remorseful I was but it was too late to change beginnings that foretold the quaking vicissitudes of man so I bided my time tracing lines layering times on time and sometimes the postman appears testifying to a name and sometimes the phone rings in my image but while we breathe we hope so I knock it back to lay myself flat that my spirit level might get the true measure of what it takes to call it a day to call it a night to call it a time to call it a life.