The Song of The Mourning Dove

Characters (in order of appearance): Her, Rat Girl, The Friendly Man, Greek Chorus, God

Scene I:  The sun is breaks over the road, spilling liquid light that rolls like waves onto the gray cityscape, over the garage where student get high and into the alley where the tired woman with shiny hair smears on electric pink lipstick.

Her hooded eyes drift upwards to connect with the almond eyes of Rat Girl.  Rat girl stands awkwardly as her back bends in a “C” to oppose the weight of the red poinsettias that she stole from church after the Christmas service.  She leaves the flower arrangement at the foot of Her memorial.

Suddenly, Rat Girl becomes unstuck in time, reliving the past in a fragmented fashion and begins to address Her.

Rat Girl:

You make me want to believe in a heaven,

Yes, a god,

Yes, a place for rest.

I still see you everyday at the crosswalk.

No, we never talked,

Or whispered a word.

Maybe a glance,

Yes, that was it.

And with one glance I was able to be jealous of you,

Of your easy grace and black velvet ringlets.

Please forgive me.

Please be happy.

Greek Chorus:

It was enough to break down.

Oh, for the love in our hearts!

Oh, for the loss in our hearts!

Are you happy?

Rat Girl:

In the procession, the envy of my shallow soul could be concealed,

My visage portrayed the tragedy, but not the guilt.

All it took was crease here and a wrinkle there,

A perfect –x² ,

And as I left, content that I satisfied my duty to human suffering,

I slid in a secret smile.

In fact, I greeted the world with a laugh.

Because I am a pretty girl,

And pretty girls are happy.

Pretty girls flounce their hair back and wave,

While pulling back red satin lips to display a diadem of pearls,

I was taught to be a pretty girl as a mechanism for survival,

And mimicked it like a mocking bird.

A cooing coquette.

Scene II:  Still in the time warp, Rat Girl recalls the absent-minded smile plastered on her face as she left the solemn service early due to the possibility a Starbucks coffee that caused the salvia in her crooked mouth to stir. 

In concurrent fashion as Rat Girl bounced out of the double doors and down the marble stairs, trudging up to the service was The Friendly Chemist, late to the funeral.  Rat Girl blushes and giggles.

Rat Girl:

Hello!

Aside, because The Friendly Man is too kind to openly rebuke Rat Girl

The Friendly Chemist:

Why?

Why?

Why did I drag myself here only to see this fallacy?

When I could barely rise with the burden of grief?

Aside, because she has no pretty words to say

Rat Girl:

Why did my calculations only bring me a pallid eye of disdain?

I could have gone with a flirty wink, or a devious grin.

But no, my pretty girl face, which works best,

Failed.

Miserably.

Scene III:  This scene begins after Rat Girl has been shot… a dirty look from The Friendly Chemist, however the real wound is derived from her epiphany of the frailty of life.  Both the weakness of the human body’s delicately pulsating organs and the stunted extent of her ability to find the humanity in herself so as to reach the humanity in others, imply that ignorance can no longer be her shelter.  She sobs uncontrollably.  With the salt streaks of tears evaporating in the wind, she turns to the city and runs from her emotions.

Rat Girl:

It always takes a few steps to feel the bullet,

And then the steps turn dizzy and I turn solid.

I want my pretty response.

But it’s an ugly situation.

You make me want to believe in a heaven,

Yes, a god,

Yes, a place for rest,

More than the ground

Now riddled with the indentations

Of Her fingerprints in soft caress.

Earlier these tears would have given me great comfort,

I could not perform half so well as this outburst.

Yet now the rasping song of the mourning dove

Tears the barrier of epithelial tissue inside my throat,

And lets the red truth flow.

Under the ocean they cannot see you cry,

But in the air, the gasps pierce through the gray sky.

I imagine it moves with tiny vibrating strings,

Writhing hot wires that send signals,

With satellite connections that hustle the streets,

Demanding a fee for something that was once, but now isn’t.

Greek Chorus:

It was enough to break down.

Oh, for the love in our hearts!

Oh, for the loss in our hearts!

Can you be happy?

Rat Girl:

GOD, I NEED YOU!

GOD, I NEED YOU!

GOD, I NEED YOU!

For her,

God, please.

Please make her happy.

And warm.

And loved.

God: