Now hear this, man.
I mean, NOW HEAR THIS, man.
Man, THIS HEAR NOW, mean I. Nowhere,
MCU, MONOCHROME, HIGH CONTRAST: Poet continues. His fore-
fingers plot out a square that is SUPERED, CG, DOTTED LINE.
So square, man. I spell SQ-UAR3E,
man. But the 3 is silent, man.
CU, MONOCHROME, HIGH CONTRAST: Poet continues. He shushes
with a forefinger. Then he traces out a cube that is SUPERED,
CG, DOTTED LINE, 3-D.
So square that its cubed, man.
Like ice in the fridge,... but too
uncool, man. Just toooooo-oo
MS, MONOCHROME, HIGH CONTRAST: Poet continues. In sync with
his poem, he cups his ears, points to the floor, tugs at his
clothes, displays his empty pockets and empty hands, folds
his hands in prayer, shakes his head NO, and then points
to the vague nothingness that surrounds him.
So now hear this, man: This is
nowhere, man... and no wear and no
wares and no cares and no prayers. I
mean: No where,... man.
(as a sigh)
MLS, MONOCHROME, HIGH CONTRAST: Our Poet struts and frets
forward from his stage, and off his stage, and falls into a
dark shallow pit beyond the cone of limbo light. He fell
into NOTHING and NOWHERE, man.
SFX: And the unseen audience members snap their fingers in
too-cool applause: Snap, snap, snap!
FADE TO BLACK