[people]

KID
latinx. male.
half-goat.

OLD LADY
latinx. female.
half-goat.

A CROWD OF CHARACTERS
all half-goat.
refer to stage directions
for detailed list.

[place/s]
a city;
a huge lemon tree
treehouse

[time]
midday.

kid walks in wearing a tattered, yellow
wedding dress. he is distraught and dirty;
sluggish, clammy, dragging his hooves. he has
been walking for a long time. could be hours,
could be years. he sees a abnormally giant
lemon-tree treehouse and decides to sit under
it. he sits. he begins to dry heave violently.
spits. spits. coughs. dry heaves. he looks out
to the audience. his breath is too heavy to hold.
he dry heaves again, vigorously. he is doing so
on purpose, to purge his body of something.

a half-goat walks from around the lemon-tree
treehouse and sees kid sitting over his own
pool of spit. he is disgusted, recoils and
quickly walks away. kid looks up at the
audience.

[pause]

he spits towards them. not at them—towards
them. two half-goats walk in, well-dressed,
talking, laughing, notice kid and are also
disgusted. they laugh and walk away. another
half-goat, walking a dog, on her phone, walks
by kid and does not notice him whatsoever.

a city of half-goats [not in this order] begin
trickling on in a staggered manner from all
over [even from the audience]. they are going
to wherever it is city people need to go. we lose
sight of kid as they fill the stage.

school kids telling jokes. a young couple in
love. a jogger. a business man. a homeless
person. a security guard. another jogger, but
heavy set—really heavy set. an art gallery
curator. a small group of people going to a
yoga class. a postman. a UPS delivery man.
a waiter. an old couple in love.

a little old lady, alone, walking extremely slow.
struggling to carry her bags filled with
pomegranates, struggling to walk. no one
acknowledges her. the pomegranates keep
falling out of her bag with every step.
no one offers help.

a mechanic pushing/rolling a spare tire across
the stage. another couple, flirting, one of
them is walking a bike by their side. an 8yr old
girl carrying a carton of cigarettes for her
mother. a drag queen. a group of teenage
girls giggling on their cellphones. a 6-foot
anglo-european blond male wearing nothing
but speedos and shower shoes carrying a
balloon. a sad clown drinking beer. a drag king.
six men in black suits wearing black
sunglasses.

the little old lady, this time at center stage, still
walking slow. struggling to carry her bags
filled with pomegranates, struggling to walk.
no one acknowledges her. the pomegranates
keep falling out of her bag with every step.
the bags are almost empty now.
no one offers help.

a bank teller, a hungry pimp, an opera singer.
a millionaire. 3 street performers carrying an
amp and a drum set. movers carrying a lips-
shaped couch. a charlie chaplin impersonator.
the monopoly guy. e.t.. cab calloway. gandhi.
a happy clown carrying a dark cloud that’s
dripping rain over his head. a man wearing a
sandwich board that reads “have you seen
god?” around his neck. a female shaman
burning sage, a giant dancing turkey. a
ventriloquist.

a musician carrying her tuba. a father pulling
his daughter along in a red wagon as she
blows soap bubbles into the air. a douchebag.
a wino. a whore. the blues brothers. mickey
mouse. ronald mcdonald. big bird from
sesame street and tweety. a king. a servant.
a wise old man. a damsel in distress.
pocahontas. a cowboy. an elderly jogger with
new balance brand sneakers. an italian baker
carrying eleven baguettes. a newsie. a
starbucks barista. pigeons. an escaped
convict. a nun. the pope. the dalai lama.

as they all work their way offstage, we see the
little old lady again, her bags are empty. still
walking slow. still struggling to walk. no one
acknowledged her. no one offered help.
the floor of the stage is completely covered
with pomegranates.

she exits.

KID
I ask why a lot.

Why I crackled;
why I fed him both of my lungs
but left myself hungry
inside his hands—
like the ocean, rousing,
circling with hunger in mind.
Like a horned fool.

I prayed for his body
with butterflies and ladybugs
for 7 years of “No”, “Get away”,
“I don’t want you”,
and dust under my lips.

His skin still lingers in the air
every time I turn the fan on.

I hate space; to have the last gasp.
Yo quería tu alma; to reach the top of the mountain,
to ride the waves of these push-and-pulls.
To say yes—doggy paddling if need be.

If I needed that. But I don’t.
I’m done. I did it and I’m done.

I ask why a lot,
but don’t ask for much.

I’m putting our relationship-wreck
where the flowers grow now.
What else do you do with the deceased, huh? 

What I dunno…

You’re a dead body to me now though,
someone else’s problem.

kid begins to cry. he wipes the tears away.
sniff. sniff. gathers his goat self together. he
is proud, nervous; sad but lighter in the chest.
he sits upright, eyes still moist.

[silence]

the little old lady slowly walks back in.
she is no longer carrying bags, only one
pomegranate in her left hand. a lush garden
of beautiful orchids have grown all over her
back since we last saw her. she slowly walks to
center stage. stops. pauses. turns towards the
lemon tree treehouse, and begins to walk,
slowly, head down. the sound of her hooves
on the floor are loud. she sits next to kid.

OLD LADY
I met genius
on the bus today.
She was a 7-day-old-gorilla
with a pirate leg
and a late night stench.
She was carrying a smoke signal
in case she needed to call on God.
She bumped into me on purpose.
I said, “Excuse me.”
She said, “No need to explain.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned
in my space-traveling-days,
besides the fact
that the jet lag of jumping
into a new body
feels like you’ve just been born
into a brand-new-slowly-dying-death,
it is that everyone cries
just like everyone dreams,
even the blind.

she hands kid her last pomegranate.
they hug.

[end of play]