The Big Questions

Where did I come from

Where am I going

Why am I blah, blah, blah?

Is there meaning to life,

Where were we before we were borne?

How long should I wait for someone who is late?

Is there a God in heaven?

Is heaven on earth or in my mind?

Aren’t there too many styles of shoes?

Why do we dream and

What do they mean and

Do I talk in my sleep?

What is mucous?

Why would a bird walk anywhere?

Quick, would you rather be rich or invisible?

Is the beginning of the end

The end of the beginning

Or just the last episode of the first season?

Sleeping is a little death

And if death is eternal sleep

Why do I wake up on the floor?

What is the soul and does

It plug a hole or is it just a way

To make excuses for overeating?

How does metabolism engage

With the endocrine system

to create anxiety and low self esteem?

What’s the difference between right and wrong

And should we be punished for

Lying about sex?

Ask the universe a question.

Why does The universe always answer,

"Shut up. How should I know?”

In a past life, in a different incarnation,

In another body, haven't we all been

Civil servants who are allergic to shellfish?

Angels, ghosts, specters

Immortal essence, eternal spirit, 

And Baboons. Always, baboons.

Where did you come from

Where are you going

Why are you blah, blah, blah?

Last Day at the Asylum

Scene: The wide porch of an expensive and luxurious Mental Hospital. It is an early twentieth century estate, perfectly maintained and landscaped. There are wicker chairs, tables, and baskets of hanging plants. In the distance several people sit on the lush green lawn engaged in an al fresco therapy session. There is distant laughter and several psych techs dressed in white monitor the patients from a discreet distance. A man throws a Frisbee to his attendant who catches it and throws it back. It is a pastoral scene.

An attractive woman in a pale yellow dress sits in a comfortable chair on the porch. There is a bowl of fruit on the table at her elbow. She carefully chooses a banana from the bowl, peels it, takes a delicate bite and turns a page in the magazine that lies on her lap.

The door swings open and a handsome man carrying a suitcase steps out. He is wearing a gray suit, white shirt with a flowered tie and a fedora.  He puts down the suitcase, tips his hat back on his head, stretches his arms and breaths deeply.

He speaks without turning around.

Man: Well, finally. I’m going home. I’m free and I’m out of here. After six months it is an enormous relief to be cleared; I am recovered, mentally fit and ready to assume my place in the world. I’ve missed the world. I’m really looking forward to working, to get back to my law firm and take charge again. I miss the challenges and rewards that come from a job well done. And, I must say, I am going to miss you, too, my dear. I’ve had my eye on you since you first arrived, you know. You never appeared dysfunctional at all; just the opposite. And, if you don’t mind, I think you are incredibly attractive. Beautiful. (The woman smiles, perks up, crosses her legs. Her summer dress rides up just above her knees.) I can’t tell you how great it is to be released from here, to be told that I am sane, functional and healthy. No more hallucinations, depressions or delusions. No violent outbursts or hysteria. Now that I am well, I hope I’m not being forward when I say that I’d like to see you, when you leave, when you go home, if that’s OK?  I am divorced, have significant funds, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way in my life. I am terribly attracted to you. In fact you have occupied my thoughts exclusively for the past several months. You are one of the reasons that I've made such breakthroughs, that I’m prepared to leave and that I am in good health. I don’t think I could have done it without your help and I hope we can meet when you are free and we can get to know each other better. I feel we have a future. Please say “Yes”.

Woman: Thank you. I’m flattered. I’ve been watching you, too, and I would very much like to see you when we get back to the city. So, yes, I feel the same. Very much so.

The man turns around, surprised and shocked.

Man: I wasn’t talking to you; I was talking to your banana.