© 2010 Lauren Sharpe
LS stands behind a podium DSC. Another Neo holds the long clip light directly above the top of the podium. During the text, she places tiny people, one by one onto the podium, arranging them in groups, moving them to different places.
When I order sushi for delivery, I don’t even have to tell them my address.
I know why. I know it’s because I’ve called them before and they have caller ID and can see where I’m calling from, but it makes me feel known.
Sometimes, when I’m walking in my neighborhood, I look inside the storefront windows as I pass, thinking, “If I died, suddenly and tragically, would the friendly guy who runs the laundromat remember me?” Like a Law & Order episode, you know? Like, the detectives would hold up a picture of me and say, “Sir, can you tell us anything about Ms. Sharpe?” And the laundromat guy would say, “Well, she was always smiling and she always said ‘hello’ when she walked by. Also, sometimes she steals dryer sheets from other people, but I pretend not to notice.”
What it would be like to be swept away? To disappear completely?
What if one day, you were just…gone. And so was your downstairs neighbor and the detective and the guy at the laundromat and his children and his mom and dad and their best friends and their kids and their kids’ grandkids. [She removes the people from the podium during the blackout.]
Sound cue of wave plays through. Lights on. A picture of the aftermath in Japan sits on the podium.
[She points to the surface of the podium.] You were here, you were here. We were here together. And now? Where are you now?
*Title phonetic pronunciation: kaKEEteiru
OWN the book!
We put together 225 of our favorite plays from our ever-growing archive of work from Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind.