# _At home._ HIM: Good god, man! We’d better start breaking some laws or some thing! Having some fistfights, or fistfucks, or just fucking something! Anything to make our lives more adventurous and worthy of song and story! ME: Well—why? I kind of like just sitting here with you, having some baked beans, maybe a beer, a smoke, you know, just enjoying space. HIM: I don’t know, I mean, I like all that too, it’s just . . . . ME: It’s just what? HIM: I don’t know. Something’s missing I guess. ME: What a cliché. And you call yourself a poet. HIM: Well fuck off! As a poet, I feel I have the right to employ clichés as often and proudly as I want! ME: Have you even written any poems lately? HIM: As a matter of fact I have, just tonight, while you were off god knows where doing god knows what. ME: Let’s see. HIM: It’s in my famous POETRY JOURNAL. _[throws journal at ME]_ ME: Hm. ’S’vaguely kind of interesting, but, I don’t know . . . . HIM: You don’t know what? ME: Well . . . . What happened next? HIM: Uh, I don’t know. I went home and drank the beer I guess. But—hey! It doesn’t matter! You’re not supposed to assume I’m actually talking about me, anyway! ME: Supposed to, schmapposed to! HIM: And besides, what were you off doing earlier tonight? ME: I was visiting my girlfriend. _HIM is silent. Anyone who knows him at all could see he is visibly stunned but trying to hide it._ HIM: _[finally . . .]_ Maybe you should have her over sometime. ME: May _be_ . HIM: Good. ME: Good. So what were you saying before, about us being more adventurous and stuff? HIM: Oh, I don’t know. Nothing. _Outside, gravel scrapes on car tires. A bird barks. Dogs talk. Fishes leap. Confusion reigns. The fake light shines in the window like a curtains display at a famous department store. ME has a funny smile on his face. HIM has a funny frown. Sometimes it seems it goes on like this forever._