Cheryl Bowlan ~ Untitled

Cheryl Bowlan ~ Untitled

HARLOW: Before you can pry any secrets from me, you must first find the real me! Which one will you pursue?

THE KID: What makes you think I want to pry secrets from you?

HARLOW: Because I’m so beautiful.

THE KID: So what!

HARLOW: You want to be as beautiful as I am.

THE KID: Oh yeah!

HARLOW: Before you can pry any secrets from me, you must first find the real me! Which one will you pursue?

THE KID: What makes you think I want to pry secrets from you?

HARLOW: Because I’m so beautiful.

THE KID: So what?

HARLOW: You want to be as beautiful as I am.

THE KID: Oh yeah! (Pause. He grabs her arm.)
I’VE GOT YOU!

HARLOW: It’s an illusion.

THE KID: (Squeezing her arm and raising it) You mean this meat isn’t you?

HARLOW: What do you think?

THE KID: What makes you think you’re so beautiful?

HARLOW: Oh, my thighs . . . my voice . . .

THE KID: What about your hair . . .?

HARLOW: What do you think?

THE KID: Your hair came out of a bottle.

HARLOW: You’re full of shit! My hair is beautiful and it didn’t come out of a bottle — it’s like this.

THE KID: Show me your baby pictures!

HARLOW: You’re crazy! Why?

THE KID: To see your hair!

HARLOW: You ARE jealous.

THE KID: You’re full of shit!

HARLOW: It’s blond — don’t worry! You’ve got buck teeth!

THE KID: SHUT UP!

HARLOW: You’d like to be beautiful! Maybe you’d even like to be pretty. You wear your hair down to your shoulders. Maybe you’d like to be a chick!

THE KID: (He takes hold of her arm — rolls it in his fingers) THIS IS NOTHING BUT MEAT! (He sneers)

HARLOW: Before you can pry any secrets from me, you must first find the real me!

THE KID: What makes you think I want to pry secrets from you?

HARLOW: Because I’m so beautiful.

THE KID: So what!

HARLOW: You want to be as beautiful as I am!

THE KID: OH yeah!
THIS IS NOTHING BUT MEAT! (He squeezes her bare arm and rolls it in his fingers.) –Why should I want to be beautiful?

HARLOW: Oh. . . You’re a man.

THE KID: Yeah?

HARLOW: You’re a man . . . And men want to be beautiful.

THE KID: I’m sick of that word . . . it makes me want to puke!
YOU’RE A BAG OF MEAT!

HARLOW: What word?

THE KID: Beautiful. I’m sick of hearing that word coming from a bag of meat.

HARLOW: Don’t touch my arm again!

THE KID: Or?

HARLOW: I’ll cut your dumb brain open like a bag of meat!
— Don’t you think I’m . . . lovely . . .

THE KID: You smell like myrrh. Come and sit on my lap. (He pulls her arm)

HARLOW: What if somebody came in and looked!

THE KID: In eternity. There’s nobody here!

HARLOW: You said I’m a bag of meat! And you said shit about my hair.

THE KID: Maybe I love you.

HARLOW: You’re full of shit. WHO CAN LOVE IN ETERNITY?

THE KID: (With sureness) Sit on my lap.

HARLOW: You’re a million miles away, Sweet.

THE KID: Not in eternity! . . . Sit on my lap!

HARLOW: FUCK YOU!

—An excerpt from  The Beard by Michael McClure (from when San Francisco was still San Francisco)