WORD OF THE DAY PLAY: ACT ONE: “PARDON MY WELTSCHMERZ”

Having waited
to open my
invitation,
I was not
present when
the first switch
was thrown
and the first
dawn light
bathed
the firmament. How
time snuck up.
A needle
embroidering
the various
extinctions. So
I can’t wrap
my head around
all your old school
allusions. When
you ask,
“Why not forget
your maker
every time a door
swings?” Is that
literal or rhetorical?
I get hung up.
All the makers.
The salvage
and collapse.
Stop calling
me names.
Suzuki.
Chest-o-whiskey.
The past
anonymously
doing something
for us. Even
at this awkward
moment. Expunged
of doorstep. It’s okay
I guess, minus
the surprises which are
so mundane and
usually sarcastic.
I mean, not like
the surprises
at the start
of the party, when
I hear folks actually
made stuff up.
Anything meant
anything. Even
all the clocks were
once imaginary clocks.
Though I shouldn’t
judge because I
usually hang near
the outer ring
of the action where
I’ve got a clear
trajectory to
the revolving door.



*WELTSCHMERZ : a mental depression or apathy caused by comparison of the actual state of the world with an ideal state