A dark and dusty room, in a run-down apartment. There is only one window in the back center of the room, toward back stage right, letting the dusty purple light of dusk ripple in.

Thinker: What are you doing?

Poet: I am thinking.

Thinker: That’s my job, your job is to write.

Poet: Will you let me be?

Thinker: Well you said you were going to write today…and –

Poet: Stop it. You’re making my blood rise.

Thinker: Fine! Then I’ll write, I’ll write right now, so we can leave this dump!

She grabs a pen and scrambles around the books on the floor looking for a paper.

Poet: I didn’t become a poet for that reason…(getting up violently) I didn’t sacrifice everything I’ve ever lived for, for that! For that ugly, inhumane commodity…what have I become?

Thinker: A poet.

Poet: You only say that to make me feel better. Perhaps it’s only your thoughts you are thinking…perhaps no one on this here earth thinks the same.

Thinker: They can go to hell.

Poet: Let me think.

Thinker: No. You must write.

Poet: (walks restlessly around the room) I can’t breathe in here, this murky room, all these books, what are we doing with all these books?

Thinker: Leave my books alone! Why are you always getting involved in my things, your job is to write.

Poet: Ha! To write! I don’t believe you, what if you are wrong?

Thinker: A thinker is never wrong, I can see you from here but you can’t see yourself…here, let me bring you a mirror…(she brings him a mirror from the corner of the room)

Poet: No, leave it, I’d rather not.

Thinker: Open the curtain, let me bring you the moon.

Poet: I’ve seen the moon before, I’m looking for something new…

Thinker: Something I’ll never see?

Poet: You’ll see it.

Thinker: I never do, I don’t have time. But I’ll make time if you won’t. If you wait another moment, I’ll punch your virile head.

Poet: I’ll throw you out the window if you punch my head.

Thinker: And what will you do without me?

Poet: Nothing I suppose. I’ll do nothing. Not a damn thing….

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In this one-act eplay, there are two characters, The Poet and The Thinker, set in a dark and dusty room, in a run-down apartment. Dreamlike. 

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