John Surowiecki has published three books of poetry—Barney and Gienka (CW Books, 2010) The Hat City after Men Stopped Wearing Hats (Word Works, 2007) and Watching Cartoons before Attending a Funeral (White Pine Press, 2003)—as well as five chapbooks. He has won the Poetry Foundation Pegasus Award for verse drama (for My Nose and Me), the Nimrod Pablo Neruda Prize and took the silver in the Sunken Garden National Competition. Publications include: Alaska Quarterly Review, The Alembic, Cider Press Review, Gargoyle, Margie, Nimrod, New Zoo Poetry Review, Oyez Review, Poetry, Redivider and West Branch.
Other publications:
The Poetry Foundation
Poets & Writers
Poets Kiss
For production permission please contact the author at:
j.surowiecki@sbcglobal.net
Cast
Narrator
The Intern Chorus [Two Members]
Me
My Nose
Doctor Slope
Irena the Czarina
Yolanda
The Poet in Room 105
The Chanter in Room 103
Herr Timple
Madame Curie
Cancer the Crab
Mister Death
The Scenes
Prologue
1. Nose on the Run
2. Me Regardant
3. A Nose of Color
4. Weltspiegel
5. A World without Odors
6. The Intern Chorus
7. My Nose in Egypt
8. The Violinist Duranowski
9. The Poet in Room 105
10. Chant from Room 103
11. The King of All Iberia: A Nightmare
12. The Lovely Yolanda
13. My Nose by the Dead Sea
14. Lament
15. Speaking of Oral Sex: A Slightly Moist Dream
16. Irena the Czarina
17. My Nose at the Globe Theater
18. Doctor Slope Makes His Rounds
19. Universal Health Care
20. Pre-Op Nose
21. Yolanda Plays the Cello: Another Dream
22. Chemo
23. Grackles
24. The Return of Doctor Slope
25. Yolanda in Love, Sort of
26. Darkness
27. Madame Curie
28. Spring Sonata
29. Note from Herr Timple
30. The Crab and Mister Death Bow Out
31. Remission Accomplished
32. Joy
33. Follow Up
Epilogue
Prologue
NARRATOR
Prologue. In which the Intern Chorus, sleep-deprived
but relatively sober, provides us with some insightful
introductory remarks.
INTERN CHORUS #1
You may be asking “Hey, who are these guys?”
Well, we’re the Intern Chorus. We’ve been told
To more or less, you know, extemporize
INTERN CHORUS #2
On a fellow named Me and his nose, a bold
Adventurous organ. It seems this nose
Just hates to be probed and, lo and behold,
INTERN CHORUS #1
He escapes poor Me, looking, we suppose,
The world over for solace and fun while, hey,
Back home, Me just adds to his sorrows and woes.
INTERN CHORUS #2
Then the nose falters and life turns less gay,
Thanks to Mister Death and Cancer the Crab. . .
But we don’t want to give it all away.
INTERN CHORUS #1 and #2
Enough of this introductory gab.
Sit back, relax, enjoy. . . start up a tab.
(They raise their cans and drink.)
Music. Lights down.
Scene 1: Nose on the Run
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 1: Nose on the Run. In which the Nose
belonging to Me decides to blow rather than subject
himself to the probes of medical science.
MY NOSE
Whew, man O man, I’ve been in that space too long,
On that face too long, too often to me a hell.
Poor chump. It’s not that he’s done anything wrong.
He’s just a matrix as far as I can tell,
But he wants me to sit still for a biopsy. . .
All that jabbing and stabbing. . .no way in hell!
I’m outta here! First breakfast at an IHOP, see,
Then I’m off to view the world. Get some R and R.
No waiting in this death house while they pop me
Full of meds. True, when I leave I leave a scar
(Gaping hole’s more like it), and that can’t be much fun,
But I have to go, you know, follow my star.
I’m a nose on the move, a nose on the run.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 2: Me Regardant
Lights up. There is a bandage where ME’s nose once was.
NARRATOR
Scene 2: Me Regardant. In which Me ruminates
on his nose’s sudden departure.
ME
(Holds mirror.)
Here I am at Mercy Hospital for
The Mentally and Physically Ill
Getting myself checked out for possible
Cancer—the dreaded despicable Crab—
And then I take a look in the mirror
I find it’s gone, gone. My poor nose: the raw
Red newel of my face, pitted, maybe
Semi-precancerous, threatening to
Decompose. What does it care anyway?
Now it’s starting to make a life for itself
Despite its bulbosity, rosacea
And all those years of cocktails and after-
Dinner drinks, crisping in the sun, sniffing
Out suffering in pleasant surroundings.
All of a sudden it thumbs itself at me!
Then ups and leaves! Exits my face! Bent on
Traveling the world (it has all those credit
Card miles), a nose on its own two feet, so
To speak. But then: I fear for it. It’s me,
After all. It goes unarmed into the world
Having steadfastly been neither this nor
That, having all its life eluded life
As life eludes words. But now existence
Tantalizes and seduces and now
It wants life to penetrate its skin, a
Blue-black permanence, a kind of tattoo.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 3: A Nose of Color
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 3: A Nose of Color. In which Doctor Slope,
Irena the Czarina, and the lovely Nurse Yolanda
inform Me that his nose has tested positive for cancer.
DOCTOR SLOPE
May I introduce myself: I’m Doctor Slope—
I added the “e” back in my twenties! Heh, heh, heh.
(Lecherously.)
And this is the lovely Nurse Yolanda.
(Dismissively.)
And this is Irena, our Chief Night Nurse.
You understand your nose is on his way
Around the world, searching for perhaps love—
Or youth. Perhaps he’s running away from
The truth. But well. . . he’s not doing so well.
Your nose has become a nose of color.
Unfortunately that color is blue
And ruby unparagoned, a duller
Mimicry of sky and storm, the somber hue
Of Cancer the Crab, of shadows sliding
Along morning snow, of a breakfast plum,
Quickly stolen, irony abiding:
Flesh to flesh, stone to heart, skin to livid skin.
Not to mention. . .
IRENA THE CZARINA
(In a rapture.)
. . .the pustules and papules
And of course the rhinorrhea, the glow
Of the thing, veiny bulges, the spherules
Of steaming blue snot, the tableaux
Of ruptures.
DOCTOR SLOPE
Live current has spilled somewhere
Breeding ions and unpaired souls. Sallow
Skies prevail, lands shudder and soil the air:
New weather. . .
IRENA THE CZARINA
. . .and standing dangers. . .
DOCTOR SLOPE
. . .to follow.
YOLANDA
Doctor Slope must think I’m some kind of dunce.
You know, Me must have been quite handsome. . . once.
(Hearing this, ME is crestfallen.)
Music. Lights down.
Scene 4: Weltspiegel
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 4: Weltspiegel. In which Me finds himself
in the Oncology Ward, his soliloquy with a mirror
interrupted by the lovely Yolanda.
ME
(With mirror.)
Room 104, near the nurses’ station.
The windows are sealed and the blinds binding.
Lamps hang unswaying from rigid steel threads
In a straight line across the universe.
I can’t help looking into this mirror.
I have to look at that hole in my face.
But it’s the perfect metaphor, isn’t it?
My nose walks the world, while I’m a mirror
To it, a glass stained with white rust and crud,
The dried atomized debris of toothpaste
And mouthwash, aware only of those who
Walk by and glance at themselves in passing.
(Yolanda takes mirror from him.)
YOLANDA
I really think we’ve had enough of that.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 5: A World without Odors
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 5: A World without Odors. In which the
lovely Yolanda imagines what it’s like being Me.
YOLANDA
Doctor Slope says my heart is bigger than
My brain: but, geez, if a nurse can’t be
Kind and empathetic, who can? If he
Thinks I’m unprofessional, well, too bad!
I can’t help myself. It’s the way I am.
If a patient dies, a little piece of me dies.
Look at that poor man without a nose. What must
It be like living in a world without
Odors? A darkness of another kind,
A place of dead shapes and flat tinny sounds
Where nothing rides on the wind, where lilacs
And the sea are only sad movies of themselves.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 6: The Intern Chorus
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 6: The Intern Chorus. In which the Intern
Chorus sings a song of little musical merit.
INTERN CHORUS #1
(Singing.)
We thought his nose was looking good;
It honked and sniffled as it should.
Everything was fine. Knock on wood.
(They knock on their own heads.)
INTERN CHORUS #2
(Singing.)
We’ve done everything we could.
After testing we understood
Everything was fine. Knock on wood.
(They knock on each other’s heads.)
INTERN CHORUS #1 and #2
(Singing.)
It was super-analyzed;
But then it metastasized.
His nose has cancer and that ain’t good.
But it’ll be fine. Knock on wood.
(They knock on their genitals.)
Music. Lights down.
Scene 7: My Nose in Egypt
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 7: My Nose in Egypt. In which My Nose
communicates with the Intern Chorus via
streaming video from the mysterious land
of the Pharaohs.
MY NOSE
The plural of sphinx? Anyone?
INTERN CHORUS
Sphinxes?
MY NOSE
Not quite.
INTERN CHORUS
Sphinx-i?
MY NOSE.
Nope.
INTERN CHORUS
Sphincters?
MY NOSE
Don’t be asses.
It’s sphinges, sphinges, sphinges. Man, I go
To Egypt to learn about the wisdom
Of the great sphinx. . . and what do I find? That,
If Napoleon's artillery had its way,
Sphinges would have no noses, not a one,
And they’re lacking in larynges as well,
Remaining silent on the subject of
Everyday life, refusing to covet
The stir and wealth that lingers closest to
The ground. Sphinges are one quarter Pharaoh
And three quarters house cat. They behave like
Antimatter. But a nose like me, on
The other hand, connects the causeless world
To another lacking consequences.
ABC. Always be cartilaginous.
Music, solo violin. Lights down.
Scene 8: The Violinist Duranowski
Lights up. Solo violin continues.
NARRATOR
Scene 8: The Violinist Duranowski.
In which Me is serenaded by a fellow patient.
ME
(Listening to violin music.)
The music is coming from down the hall,
Mister Duranowski, a real nut case.
While I’m breathless under a dead world with
A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief.
The violin is the voice of leaving,
(Solo violin fades out.)
Quick departure, irrevocable loss,
Often life’s last and death’s first voice. . .
(More modern solo violin.)
. . . And now he’s playing something more modern.
Sounds like an Old man taking a leak in
Middle of the night. Drip, drop, drip. Plink, plink.
Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, think, surge, foam, hiss.
Then the coda, big finish: squirt, squirt, squirt. . .
Modern violin music fades out. Lights down.
Scene 9: The Poet in Room 105
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 9: The Poet in Room 105.
In which Me hears from another of his ward neighbors.
POET
(Wears a beret, recites in the beatnik style.)
I am reminded of Trakl,
The poet who died from a drug
Overdose while serving as, ha
Ha, pharmacist in the Austro-
Hungarian army. To date
I am certain of just four things:
(1) We cast shadows so we might be.
(2) Light and shadow are the stuff of voids.
(3) Night is ordinary, a shadow.
(4) We are solid and so next to
Nothing in the hierarchy
Of lambencies. So there you are.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 10: Chant from Room 103
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 10: Chant from Room 103. In which a
patient suddenly bursts into chant—as
sometimes happens in oncology wards.
WOMAN FROM ROOM 103
O I’m in such pain. I’m in such terrible pain.
O I’m in such pain. I’m in such terrible pain.
O I’m in such pain. I’m in such terrible pain.
O I’m in such pain. I’m in such terrible pain.
O O O.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 11: The King of All Iberia: Me’s Nightmare
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 11: The King of All Iberia: Me’s Nightmare.
In which Me becomes king for a night.
KING/ME
(Singing.)
I am the King of all Iberia.
While this Me is a patient ordinaire.
My diagnosis? Pure hysteria:
He birthed his own nose; now there’s nothing there.
He’s low, sirs, as low as one can go, sirs.
His life is mostly unrelenting pain.
While I am Iberia and so, sirs. . .
INTERN CHORUS #1
(Singing.)
But that’s only Portugal and Spain.
KING/ME
(Singing.)
I’m a born success. He’s a born loser
And yet aren’t I capable of pity,
Reaching out to one without a shnoozer?
INTERN CHORUS #2
(Singing.)
No. . . You’re actually acting quite shitty.
KING/ME
(Singing.)
I get it. A class thing. Keepin’ it real.
What does it matter if he, well, drops dead?
If the world loses him it’s no big deal.
But who’s that lovely young thing by his bed?
INTERN CHORUS #1 and #2
(Singing.)
O its Yolanda. She’s handing out meds.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 12: The Lovely Yolanda
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 12: The Lovely Yolanda. In which the Intern
Chorus gives Me hope that Yolanda might find him
less repulsive than he has any right to expect.
YOLANDA
I’m sorry about your nose, cancer, no?
(He nods yes. She takes his temp, then sits down.)
ME
Nurses say despair has a slippery
Vitamin E feel to it and a smell
That’s vaguely medicinal. Hey, maybe
They’ll plug my nose with morphine tabs. . . or not.
I dreamed I was King of All Iberia
But I think I was only King of Spain.
Would the King of Spain know something about
Noses? Maybe not. Picasso’s noses
Are striped, ugly and sloppily painted.
El Greco’s are, well, pinocchio-like
And Velásquez’s look like the last pick
Of a peasant’s potatoes. What can one
Expect from Spain, a nation where noses
Are held in such low esteem. Why am I
Talking about noses? It’s that nice, sweet,
Lovely nurse I should be talking about.
INTERN CHORUS #1
There’s talk that she’s interested in you.
ME
What? Really? In me?
INTERN CHORUS #2
Don’t get excited.
It’s pity more than love.
ME
So much the pity.
INTERN CHORUS #1
It’s just mental. She’ll no doubt be indicted
For excessive empathy. She’s pretty. . .
ME.
Does she have a name?
INTERN CHORUS #2
She does. Yolanda.
ME
Day shift?
INTERN CHORUS MEMBER #1
The dark of ordinary night.
She’s not from here.
ME
Then where?
INTERN CHORUS #1 and #2
Poland-a!
Music. Lights down.
Scene 13: My Nose by the Dead Sea
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 13: My Nose by the Dead Sea. In which
My Nose visits the Holy Land and introduces
us to Herr Timple.
MY NOSE
Well, well, it seems not only have I changed
Color, blue to red to blue again, but I
Have a new traveling companion and
Live-in pest, a pimple that’s also a
Tumor — a Timple.
(Timple waves stupidly to audience.)
He works for Cancer
The Crab who in turn works for Mister
Death—now there’s an unholy trinity!
He’s a fetid, pus-oozing piece of scab
And I just can’t shake him; wherever I
Go, there he is, the hardened snot. It’s like
He’s attached to me or something. I’ve been
Everywhere and can’t get rid of him. . .
Even here where God learned the backstroke, where
The water is heavier than lead or
Just about anything else on earth except
A sinking feeling and a heart of stone.
But I’m doing okay, no, really, I
Am. Love and kisses, your Nose of Sharon.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 14: Lament
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 14: Lament. In which Me and his mirror
share another soliloquy.
ME
(With mirror.)
My poor nose. Poor the rest of me as well.
Look how I look: like someone who’s lived in
One too many halfway houses! God, I
Look like a monster slash abusive priest slash
Child molester slash serial killer
Slash mental institution escapee.
What woman could love this noseless face?
My sanity bobs on a string. Yo, Yo.
How can I, Me, ever hope for your love?
Music. Lights down.
Scene 15: Speaking of Oral Sex: A Slightly Moist Dream
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 15: Speaking of Oral Sex: A Slightly Moist Dream.
In which Me traces love’s progress with the Yolanda
of his dreams.
ME
(With laser pointer.)
Yo, a.k.a. Io, is engulfed in
Zeusfog, a trillion molecular mouths,
I.e., oral sex; but what about love?
(He points a laser dot at Yolanda’s heart.)
Is it still the heart’s music and pedal
Point of daily life? Yes. But let’s go back
To the primal cream, the geography
Of delight, the snail trail of the male tongue,
Love’s progress: your Sestus and Abydos.
(Laser dot at breasts.)
Your Mole Islands. . .
(Dot on various moles.)
your Navel Sea. . .
(Dot on navel region.)
your sweet
Ordinating Feet
(Dot on her feet.)
and the fabulous
India.
(Dot on her genital area.)
And when it’s done, well, it’s done.
And the nose-tongue forays, the stamp-lick of
Possession and territory. All gone.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 16: Irena the Czarina
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 16: Irena the Czarina. In which the glorious
Chief Night Nurse has her say.
IRENA
O I can’t get anywhere with Doctor Slope.
He’s a decent doctor, but he’s such a dope.
Always Yolanda this and Yolanda that.
Me? He’s thinks I’m a monster, a snake, a rat.
Of course, he may be right. He just doesn’t know
That I’m the czarina, diva of shadow,
Queen of the darkest darkness, the new Ayn Rand,
The glorious empress of the graveyard shift! And
Like all empresses I’m a creature of milk,
I love to wear ermine and now and then silk.
And you, my subjects, my nurses and patients,
Representing every one of the nations. . .
You’re all my lovely slugs, my little insects.
I’m your nightshift mother and you’ll break your necks
To make me smile. Give me your ivory toys
And enamel eggs; forget your petty ploys
And lame excuses. I rule what’s there to rule:
Dragonflies, recluses, tulips bejeweled
By gold bugs, lilies, wrens, bluebirds of delight,
Roaches, noseless (ugh) men, owls that hunt the night,
(Rhapsodic.)
Endless fields of primrose, my yellow country
Rising from the solemn olive of the sea.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 17: My Nose at the Globe Theater
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 17: My Nose at the Globe Theater. In which
My Nose endures a reading from the Shakespearean
Romances by Herr Timple himself.
MY NOSE
I still can’t get rid of this creep Timple,
(Timple, an idiot, waves to audience.)
This post nasal drip. He’s murdering me,
Venom in my veins. I thought I’d come here
For a bit of the Bard. I always cry when
Falstaff dies, babbling about green fields, his
Nose sharp as a pen. I used to enjoy
Tragedy, but it’s no fun since that’s what
My life has become. And Herr Timple who
Fancies himself an actor says I might
Enjoy the last plays of Master Shakespeare,
The romances, reconciliatory
Dramas in which folks get tired and weary
And are more apt to make compromises
Than spill blood or actually buy the farm.
Everything’s a common gray at the end;
Everyone’s both guilty and innocent:
From a mornings satires come an evening’s
Humble apologies. . .
(Timple whispers something to My Nose.)
It seems that Herr
Timple would like to recite from Shakespeare’s
Romance plays.
(Sarcastic.)
This should be a treat.
HERR TIMPLE
First: here vee are, two little boys who tink vee are boys
Eternal. Okay. Now der next vun:
A sad tale is for v-v-vinter. Brr. Und der last:
What should I speak off ven I’m alt as you?
I will read more Shakespeare if you so wish.
Maybe a few nasal passages.
(Laughs.)
MY NOSE
O thank you, but no. (I have to get rid of
Him now!) Signing off until tomorrow
Or whenever, your Nosenkavalier.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 18: Doctor Slope Makes His Rounds
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 18: Doctor Slope Makes His Rounds.
In which the good doctor and the Intern Chorus
use Me as an educational tool.
DOCTOR SLOPE
And what have we here? Yes, of course,
The man who lost his nose.
Isn’t that how it goes?
No time for pity or remorse.
Note the awful gaping chasm
INTERN CHORUS #1
O how dreadful, O how sad.
DOCTOR SLOPE
Sad? It’s really not that bad.
It’s clean, some pus, a wee spasm.
But consider this poor man’s nose.
He e-mailed me from the Globe:
He’s blue, bummed out like Job,
With Timple wherever he goes
INTERN CHORUS #2
Timple?
DOCTOR SLOPE
A tumor slash pimple.
The nose knows it must go,
Dug out like escargot,
Surgically removed, plain and simple.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 19: Universal Health Care
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 19: Universal Health Care. In which Doctor Slope
and Irena the Czarina consider the financial aspects of surgery.
DOCTOR SLOPE
Nurse, you know we must have some assurance
That this nose creature has some insurance
IRENA THE CZARINA
The nose has none. Only the man does, so
It appears you’ll have to work. . . pro bono.
DOCTOR SLOPE
Pro this bono. It’s anachronistic
To think doctors can be. . . altruistic.
So normally, well, I’d just say “Screw it!”
But there’s a way I think I can do it—
And still get paid. You want to hear my plan?
(She nods yes.)
It’s this: the nose is father of the man.
I’ll combine the two, not do them apart.
Who’ll know anyway?
IRENA THE CZARINA
(Adoringly.)
Doctor, you’re so smart.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 20: Pre-Op Nose
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 20: Pre-Op Nose. In which My Nose
and Herr Timple exchange a few words before
going under the knife.
MY NOSE
I’ve traveled the world and here I am, home,
Mercy Hospital, Doctor Slope, O dear.
After surgery, of course, I’ll be less
Of a nose. You, my foul fiend, will be lanced,
Plucked out, and unceremoniously
Dropped into a metal kidney-shaped cup.
I’ll admit I’m jittery.
HERR TIMPLE
Und me as vell.
MY NOSE
But dig they must and go you must: leave me
To myself and Me, my old face and friend.
How I appreciate him now, poor dork.
I wonder if he’s scared. I wonder if
He feels my pain. I wonder if we are
In some way, you know, connected. In fact,
I wonder if we aren’t really the same. . .
And you, mein Herr, when I am free of you
You can either end your refrain and die
Or emigrate to Canada and lead
A quiet, unobtrusive and very short life.
Well, Herr Timple, let’s go under the knife.
HERR TIMPLE
Das Messer?
MY NOSE
O yeah, you got that right. . . Mac.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 21: Yolanda Plays the Cello: Another Dream
Lights up. Solo cello is heard.
NARRATOR
Scene 21: Yolanda Plays the Cello: Another Dream.
In which Me dreams he has a chance with Yolanda.
ME
Is that my sweet Yolanda playing? Why?
Is it a benefit with funds going
To my nose? Is there any new news of
My nose? I sense he’s nearby. I sense he’s
In pain. I sense we’re like brothers again.
Maybe the music itself will tell me?
(He listens.)
Maybe not. She truly is the nurse to the
World. Toes dug into the golden sand of
The Costa del Sol, legs spread wide apart,
She plays for everyone in the world who
Suffers pain, everyone who’s forsaken
And troubled and ridiculed and desperate
And lost, everyone who burns with failure
And remorse, everyone whose dreams will
Never come true and will just hang around,
Foul vaporous things, stinging like nettles,
Smelling like death. And so. . . she plays for me.
Solo cello fades out. Lights down.
Scene 22: Chemo
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 22: Chemo. In which My Nose and Me
are reunited and undergo chemotherapy together.
MY NOSE
(Removes the bandage and tosses it away.)
All in all, the surgery worked out fine.
Timple was sent packing to Canada.
But it seems surgery wasn’t enough.
The knife couldn’t cut it, so to speak. Crab
Still lurks in crannies and capillaries,
Still hides in molecules, spewing poison.
I want my face once again! I want my
Faithful companion. Both of us will have
To undergo chemo. Hell, he’ll be my
Chemo Sabe. It’s that or it’s Mister
Death. I’m all ready to go: the IV. . .
ME
. . .Is set up and the cocktail runs through my
Veins like gasoline, cold but capable
Of fire. I can feel every cell revolt,
Repulsed and reviled. The pain finds its home
In my brain and there it is forgotten,
Soon I am asleep and I dream of a half-
Azure, half-navy sea, of lava streams,
Of thick-ankled women and far-flung friends.
Our lives are drip. . .drip. . .dripping away.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 23: Grackles
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 23: Grackles. In which lovely Yolanda watches
over Me and finds some significance in a bunch of birds.
YOLANDA
(Looking at ME, whose eyes are closed.)
He’s attached to the chemo. How peaceful
He looks, how sweet. And look, he’s attached to
His nose again. He is kind of handsome.
Or he might be—once the swelling goes down.
My shift’s almost done. The sun’s coming up.
Look! Outside the window: grackles!
They arrive by the thousands from
Who knows where and they descend on
Vacant lots and parking lots and
Park lawns. . . pecking at sticks, bumping
Into each other and looking
Confused. They seem to be saying
Don’t celebrate just yet: the Crab
Only appears to be dying!
The Crab’s not afraid of chemo!
The Crab can survive anything!
Now they’re squawking, whistling, spitting,
Leaving in a slanting black cloud.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 24: The Return of Doctor Slope
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 24: The Return of Doctor Slope. In which
Doctor Slope, Irene and the Intern Chorus come upon
another medical strategy.
DOCTOR SLOPE
Chemo’s failed. We need a big punch-a-roo.
There must be something more that we can do.
I hate to see their hopes dim, their lives fade
(At least they have something more than Medicaid).
How’s his heart, his lungs, his urination?
IRENA THE CZARINA
Maybe we consider radiation?
SLOPE, IRENA, THE INTERN CHORUS
(Chanting.)
Two, four, six, eight!
Yes, we need to radiate!
Two, four, six, eight!
Yes, we ought to radiate!
Two, four, six, eight!
Yes, we have to. . . .
DOCTOR SLOPE
. . .radiate!
Music. Lights down.
Scene 25: Yolanda in Love, Sort Of
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 25: Yolanda in Love, Sort of. In which
Yolanda philosophizes on love, pain and normalcy.
YOLANDA
And now it’s radiation. Geez, what next?
How can I tell him that I love him when
He can’t hear me and, well, I don’t really
Love him. I mean, I like him, and I think
He’s quite intelligent and pretty good
Looking or would be once his nose is right
And at its normal size. I don’t love love him.
I could spend time with him and care for him,
Nurse him, I suppose, since that’s what I do,
And I could muster up some love for him,
More than a little, I think, but not more
Than a lot. O dear. Of course I would do
Anything to kill the pain in his life,
The pain of his life, the pain of the Crab.
Anyway, he’s thinking of existence
Right now, just being: how can like or love
Or whatever else measure up to that?
I look out the window whenever I can.
It’s always them out there versus us in here.
It’s normal out there and when you’re in here
Nothing’s more remarkable than normal.
Normal is perfect, but no one knows it
Except those in here. I go back and forth
And all I can do is feel bad for those
In here and I wish they were all out there.
The clouds look like fat deposits, the cars
Like red blood cells flowing through arteries,
The trees like sticks of bone filled with marrow,
People are like bacteria, viruses,
Atoms of everyday life. . . How perfect.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 26: Darkness
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 26: Darkness. In which My Nose and Me
come face to face with the mother of all darknesses.
MY NOSE
Nothing more to do, nothing more to say.
ME
Nope. What’s inside this darkness anyway?
MY NOSE
A million deaths ensuing. . . or just ours.
ME
Armies or assassins bearing flowers?
MY NOSE
Roses, lilacs, created for a nose?
ME
Shot, stabbed, defiled—then we decompose.
MY NOSE
A radium beam pierces through the pus.
ME
Is it hot in here or is it just us?
MY NOSE
The dark’s a sea of sadness and despair.
ME
A cave of rough voices and stinking air,
MY NOSE
Voices missing faces, switching faces.
ME
Voices killing time, erasing places.
MY NOSE
There’s hearing and smell but no touch or sight.
ME
Or maybe there’s only eternal night.
MY NOSE
This is it for all time, us for all time.
ME
It’s like light and life were some kind of crime.
MY NOSE
The darkness would engulf us if it could.
ME
You know, things aren‘t looking very good.
MY NOSE
It seems the dark’s a fine and lovely place.
ME
You and I and it: we should all embrace.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 27: Madame Curie
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 27: Madame Curie. In which the acknowledged
queen of radiation saves the day! And is interviewed
by the Intern Chorus.
MADAME CURIE
(Thick Polish accent.)
Did somebody say rad-ium?
Hey, dot’s my middle name-ium.
INTERN CHORUS #1
Isn’t it a dangerous thing?
MADAME CURIE
O yeah, you bet, it’s got a shting.
O boy, for you I got some noose:
You kin’t touch my henkys or shoose.
Rad-ium in dem kin kill you. . .
And den undertaker kin bill you
INTERN CHORUS #2
But it’s beneficial too, no?
MADAME CURIE
O tak. Look et me. My big toe
(Shows black toes and fingers.)
Is black like loam and my fingers
Blacker. Mister Death he lingers
About me. My nose is scabby
Tanks to Cancer de Crabby.
Rad-ium it goes to de brain,
Lunks and heart. It makes you insane.
It makes you dead. Yet what kills me
Helps dat man and nose. What fills me
Wit pain and death fills dem with hope.
You get it or are you a mope?
INTERN CHORUS #1
Then you approve of using radium?
MADAME CURIE
O tak. It’s just dat it ain’t dat much fun.
INTERN CHORUS #2
Then there’s hope and we shouldn’t worry?
MADAME CURIE
Hey, it puts the “cure” in Madame Curie!
Do you know what day it is, my frand.
Is first day of sprink! Now ain’t dat grand!
Spring Sonata. Lights down.
Scene 28: Spring Sonata
Spring Sonata continues throughout at low volume.
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 28: Spring Sonata. In which My Nose and Me
celebrate the first day of spring, the periodic table
of elements, and themselves.
MY NOSE
It’s Duranowski, the skip and frolic
Of the Spring Sonata. How apropos
On this, the first day of spring: note the brown
Lawns, the gray skies, the damp chill in the air.
If we were honestly dying we would
Be replaced by the rare earths: lanthanum,
Cerium, praseodymium, too.
Plus: neodymium, promethium,
Samarium, europium. Not to
Mention, gadolinium, terbium,
Dysprosium, holmium, erbium,
Thulium, ytterbium, and so on
And so forth till we reach uranium.
And what’s Mister Death offer? Delirium!
A turning away and a leaping through
Time, insurance against the final truth
And worst of truths: the end of ends and starts.
ME
I feel something coming over me, something
Crazy all right. I hear birds singing in
The playground, children shouting in the trees.
Are we going to die now? Does the process
Of replacement begin now? Will we be
Sent to the room that’s forever cold?
MY NOSE
No, not today, my friend, and you really are
My friend. I’m sorry I caused you such pain.
But maybe it all worked out for the best;
Maybe Crab and Mister Death will leave us
Alone forever and ever. You know,
Maybe you and I are each other’s. . . rescuers.
Spring Sonata fades out. Lights down.
Scene 29: Note from Herr Timple
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 29: Note from Herr Timple. In which
Herr Timple, now living in Canada, reads a
letter he has written.
HERR TIMPLE
(Reads from a letter.)
Dear Nose: Yust a note to tell you dot I,
Herr Timple, em living in Canada,
Forever snowed in, forever novhere.
I haf abandoned you, let you go. Und
Now, now you are rid of a terrible
Thing of evil, namely me. Now you vill
Begin to regain all your nose powers
Und I will fade avay und die. Cuz there’s
No host here. Nothing I can get attached
To, just snow and pine trees and snow and snow
And more snow. . .So adieu, remember me.
Your every third thought shall be my grafe.
Und how in this our pinching cave shall vee
Discourse the freezing hours avay? Well, vee
Shan’t. Love und smoochies, your old pal, Herr T.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 30: The Crab and Mister Death Bow Out
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 30: The Crab and Mister Death Bow Out.
In which death is only a walk on.
THE CRAB
(Western drawl.)
Well, I’ve been thrown out of better places.
No toodle-oohs, no gifts, no embraces;
Just keep it moving, Jack, and don’t look back,
Say and do nothing or you’ll get a whack
On the head. Sometimes it does get me down.
Except for Mister Death here, who hangs around
On this floor, I have no one to call my friend.
So I’m gone, history. Good night. It’s the end.
O I’m getting much too touchy-feely. . .
Do you have anything to say?
MISTER DEATH
Not really.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 31: Remission Accomplished
March continue throughout at low volume.
Lights up. The Chorus unfolds and holds a banner that reads REMISSION ACCOMPLISHED.
NARRATOR
Scene 31: Remission Accomplished.
In which everything is pretty much ok.
ME
My nose has returned to its proper place
And my senses number five once again.
It’s a day of remission and return,
Reunion and rejoicing. My nose is
The nose on my face, fixed, except for now
And then when it goes out for a long walk
To get some Vicks Vap-O-Rub or something.
It’s OK.
(My Nose stands, waves to audience, sits down.)
I’m OK and the Intern
Chorus, I would say, is pretty much. . .
INTERN CHORUS
(Thumbs up.)
OK!!
ME
Chemo was supremo. OK indeed.
The radium treatment was a success.
Our glowing Madame Curie is OK.
(Madame Curie takes a bow, sits.)
Herr Timple is not so alive up in
Canada, a hard pellet in the snow.
(He stands, freezing, waves slowly.)
Good riddance—and that’s OK.
The poet in Room 105? He’s OK.
(Poet stands, tips his beret, sits.)
But alas
The chanter in Room 103? She’s dead.
(Chanter stands, lowers her head as if dead, sits.)
The grackles are OK, Doctor Slope is OK!
(He waves.)
The King of All Iberia
(Me grabs Burger King crown and puts it on his head.)
Is bueno!!!
(Me tosses off crown.)
Duranowski is OK
Yolanda is more than OK
(Yolanda blows kiss at Me.)
And it’s OK that she doesn’t really love me.
(Yolanda shrugs.)
Mere existence trumps love every time.
As for Irena the Czarina, she’s
Still imperial and in her way OK.
(Yolanda waves with the motion of Queen Elizabeth.)
Even Crab and his boss, Mister Death,
(They wave without enthusiasm.)
Are OK so long as I never see
Them again. O everything in the world
Is OK; in fact everything can’t
Be anything else but OK, lovely,
Beautiful, magnificent O. . .K. . .
March fades out. Lights down.
Scene 32: Joy
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 32: Joy. In which Doctor Slope tells
us about the joy associated with not being
dead.
DOCTOR SLOPE
Post-op: it’s when patients experience joy,
Really for the first time. Life’s now a toy
And they can’t get enough of it, a kite
Fluttering like a butterfly, a delight
Of brilliance and meaning. To be alive
Again, to be again, with senses five:
No despair, moping, no sorry asses.
Life: that’s the real opiate of the masses.
Music. Lights down.
Scene 33: Follow Up
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Scene 33: Follow Up. In which life goes on.
ME
Joy has slipped away, water through fingers.
Those sublime blue skies have been pushed aside.
Floods recede, leaving fishes stuck in mud.
There’s an end to gushing, overflowing.
You know, it really lasts only so long,
This new appreciation of life.
Even the fear of death is a twitching
In a barely remembered dream. What stays,
What takes the place of brilliance and color
Is everyday gray. What happens? What makes
Us fall from those excited states? Is it
Fatigue? Is it we’re uncomfortable
With too much pure energy and wonder?
Instead of dread: discomfort. Instead of
Joy: a gray happiness, a small gray smile.
Time to go then, into the evening, gray,
Grayer, grayest.
(Sighs.)
One gets used to it.
It’s not so bad really. I mean, joy is
Kind of an unreal sensation, almost
Even artificial. Give me the real thing
Any day. Nothing fancy. I don’t need
Much, a nice day, a wren singing, a cat,
A walk to the post office, shrimp scampi,
A vodka at four, a good film or book,
Some good friends, a good night’s sleep.
I don’t need the world to move.
All I need is the world.
Music. Lights down.
Epilogue
Lights up.
NARRATOR
Epilogue. In which the Intern Chorus has a
few last words.
INTERN CHORUS #1
Well, that’s our little production.
And now your every third thought should
Be on traffic. . . or seduction.
INTERN CHORUS #2
We recall the words of gentle Puck:
“Give me your hands if we be friends.
And let’s hope we didn’t completely suck.”
INTERN CHORUS #1
And the play’s moral? Instruction
On how to survive? Yes. Or it could
Very well be a new introduction
INTERN CHORUS #2
To hope. Or it might even disclose
Deep philosophical means or ends.
But it’s really just this:
ALL
Be good to your nose!
Music continues.
End of Play
