Setting: Supermarket. The lights are blinding, so much so that every actor is squinting while on stage. The cash registers don’t hold any money just colorful shells. There is a janitor in the background that continues pacing and dropping his mop. It is night.
Scene 1
Great American poet Walt Whitman is standing behind the first cash register, looking stunning in his purple company apron. A young Mother moves her grocery cart, heavy with fruits and children, up to the register. She begins to carelessly throw everything from her cart unto the conveyor belt.
Mother: Hello, Walt.
Whitman: Hello once again, Sydney!
Mother: My name is not Sydney. We’ve been over this a thousand times.
Whitman: Oh, you’re right! The 1800s runs heavy on the mind and soul, Linda.
Mother: Not Linda either. How’s your mother doing? Last I saw of her she was sitting in a pot in the produce section.
Whitman: She finally became what she always wanted to be, a tree whose roots were invisible in time and shining in sorrow.
Mother: Terrible fruit, though.
Whitman: I agree. Much like this one, very soft in parts.
Mother: That’s one of my children, Walt.
Whitman: O! That explains the screaming. I don’t know many fruits that produce tears.
Mother: Plums do if they’re ripe enough.
Whitman: That’ll be 20 dollars, Miranda.
Mother: Walt, do you ever think about leaving? Finally untying your apron and walking out of here for good?
Whitman: In the break I see nothing but yellow leaves/another sign that the circle is done/finally.
The Mother looks out at the sliding doors. The night somehow gets darker. Sighs. She picks up her bags of children and fruit.
Scene 2
Whitman is stacking cans on a display table, somewhat related to the coming winter. A Man is walking through an aisle. He stops to look at the large array of ketchup when an arrow appears, piercing him in the heart. It is hard to distinguish whether what is coming out is ketchup or blood. The Man falls to the floor as Whitman runs towards him.
Man: Finally.
Whitman: Sir, what’s wrong?
Man: Nothing, I seem to have fallen. Where can I find the arrows?
Whitman: In your chest, blossoming.
Man: No. The ones on sale.
The Man coughs. He is getting close. Footsteps seem to be coming from all directions, echoing in the empty midnight hall. Whitman whispers.
Whitman: Aisle seventeen, I believe, but no one goes there anymore. Keep quiet.
Spaceman: THE SILENCE IS OUT, THE BOX IS IN, I AM.
Man: Uh-
Whitman: Oh.
The Spaceman appears in the back of the supermarket wearing an Apollo 13 spacesuit. The boots are covered in red dust, the helmet cracked. It’s the first time we see the Spaceman in the play but in the reflection of his mask we see everyone we ever loved, a dead relative we never got to say goodbye to, Cynthia. The Spaceman begins to take off his helmet.
David Bowie: Hello, again.
