Cast: Poet, and Meddler ( )
The poet is sitting in a living room facing a brick fireplace, bright embers and flickering flames the only source of light. Poet, thinking out loud: I\'m cozy and delighted with the morning. While stacking the kindling and lighting the tinder, I thought to myself, \"What a treat! I downed an elm a year ago, cut and stacked the stove-lengths; this winter\'s day the wood is seasoned. I am enjoying the warm glow of the fire.\" Pen and clipboard in hand, words are beginning to take shape. The chill is out of the air! (YOU took the life of a tree for a little chill?) The Meddler appears out of nowhere. Though a bit startled the poet seems resigned to the intrusion: Well, I guess I could have worn my new woolen Christmas sweater. (YOU \"guess\"? And how is it this shorn sheep, the source of your knitted garment protected from the cold?) Oh, I don\'t believe he cares, you see, he\'s mutton now. Get it? Huh? Huh? Mutton? (YOU dare eat the flesh of animals?) Why, um, yes. Prepared correctly the meat is tasty and nourishing. (That paper YOU are scribbling on is also attained from our timber forest!) So? (More wanton destruction for YOUR pleasure.) Look, Bud, whoever you are, can you just move along and go annoy someone else? (That pen YOU grasp is fabricated chiefly of oil products, OIL that contaminates the environment!) This banter back and forth continues a short while during which time more wood goes on the fire. Finally: All right all ready! I give up! I\'ll strip myself naked, go outdoors, and wait until I starve to death, be eaten by wild animals or die of exposure. Satisfied? Starts towards the exit as he tears off his shirt. (Excellent idea. Move along now.) Door closes as poet leaves: (I think I\'ll sit a spell beside this lovely fire. There\'s a chill in the air.)
Augustus / Folsom, LA / January 2017