This is the same old story starting all over. Hunger. Hunger in all its many forms: The command form. The infinitive. The first person . . . imperfect.

See, Flori hungers for Ricardo. No wonder: they haven’t seen each other since they were five years old. See, they were kids together, then years later she wrote him a letter and they fell in love. Isn’t that crazy? You’re not going to like this if you’re intelligent.

Ah! But the Professor, her father, disapproves. He hungers for All He’s Missed, so he’s on sabbatical. With his friend the Captain, who hungers for Success, while the Captain’s wife, Ellinda, goes nuts.

So Flori persuaded me to bring her here to meet Ricardo. Understand, I’m not a person, I’m a character, she read me in a book. I have been in many plays better than this one. Call me a guy who knows the ropes.

Those two, I don’t know, they’ve lived here fifteen years, and they hunger for anything that comes along.

So that’s the plot. Happens every day.

Oh, that’s a demon. He works here. When he brings in the tree, we’ll be on someone’s half-assed idea of an island. This is an enchanted island, meaning it’s wherever you don’t want to be.

So what about that sandwich? I can’t start without it. That’s why my accent’s garbled, I salivate in ten languages.

Hunger: you think I run it into the ground, just watch it sprout back up. There’s going to be love and laughter all over the place, and I’ll be straining to fill my gut. It’s not fair, it’s unjust, it’s—

—happened. We’re here.

        All alone am I

        No one to talk to have I

        All alone with just. . .

The groaning of my goddamn gut. A touch of the poet! As long as I’m starving, I could be a poet:

        Oh to be at Gino’s

        Now that the pizza’s done!

Scuse me, it’s time for a little wishful thinking.

It’s an ant.

Ok, ant, I got news. You’re my emergency rations.

“Don’t kill Ant-onio.” Who’s Ant-onio? Oh, you’re Ant-onio. That figures.

Well, Antonio, I’m not going to kill you, I’m going to eat you. I know that’s a fine distinction, but I am a man of fine distinction.

Another demon. I better hide. (to the ant) Into the pocket. Where’s Flori? I’ll pretend I’m a tree.

A weeping willow. If you thought I’d say something profound, you’ll have to wait till the end of the play.

It’s like I dreamed it would be. It’s a dream come true.

Flori, we stand in the midst of Life, and that’s no place for a young girl—

The plan is this: you be a man.

No, Flori, I mean we dress you like a man. You pretend to be a man. Then nobody mess with you.

All this because I love Ricardo. I’ve never really loved someone before. Oh, I love my father. But a person, that’s scarey.

Sometimes I get so afraid, I can’t hold onto things. That’s what I wrote him, the first time I wrote. I said, “I’m afraid to write after all these years” — he moved away when we were five. "I’m afraid you think I’m still five. I’m afraid maybe something’s happened to make you grow up mean and cross-eyed and fat.

“I’m afraid you won’t write back.”

But I knew he would. I even knew what kind of poems he’d write:

    I love the feet of Flori, I love the ankles too,

    I love her knees and legs and all, and I love Flori too.

    And I love Flori’s eyes, and I love Flori’s hair,

    And I love her hands and her voice and her neck and chin and nose and I can’t even rhyme any more because I love her so!

His poems are a little gushy.

And my name’s not Flori, it’s . . . Flora. Except to him.

But this island, it’s so strange. We read storybooks together, he must have picked it out of a book.

I look forward to so many things, I’m excited about so many things. But I don’t know what.

This bit hasn’t worked for centuries.

Don’t say it! Quick, there’s another!

You’re too slow. You need exercise.

It’s a crucifix. Two crucifixes!

O Lord, forgive me, I’m sorry I’m a nag. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa culpa culpa!

How!

Te adoro, Flori. Je t’aime, Flori. Flori, I love you!

Oh. Yes. I’m wearing a dress.

See, I think this is the best disguise, because women don’t have so many problems, people wanta help them and nobody picks a fight. So if I meet anyone, I’ll pretend I’m a local farmer’s daughter or a happy nymph living in harmony with nature.

My legs are drafty. That must be how Flori feels. Fantastic! I’ll see this island through your eyes, Flori, and then I’ll understand you.

A flower! It’s . . . wow! No, Flori would never pick it. She’d say it’s there to be beautiful.

But beauty exists to bring pleasure. The flower asks us to pick it. But if I pick it, it won’t be there for Flori to see. Wait, I’m Flori now. It won’t be there for Ricardo to see. But I’ll give it to him, then he’ll be sure to see it. But then it will die. Die in his hands. How like life!

But we can learn from suffering. But what can the death of this flower teach Ricardo? He has suffered enough. This is very heavy.

Oh, Flori! I wrote you another poem!

        O Flori dear Flori, your eyes your lips your hair,

        O Flori, your arms, O Flori your skin

        Are like peaches!

I’m not always as sappy as this. I’m a realist. And I suppose if I had to desert from a battleship, I’d think twice about it. But I’m just cutting two classes.

Because it’s experience! I want to experience life. Because I feel so deeply, and with wisdom far beyond my years, that even when life’s throwing its punches, its arms are out!

Somebody’s coming! I’ll die if they see me like this! This is a terrible disguise! I better do something nobody’s ever thought of before.

I’ll pretend I’m a tree. A mighty oak!

Theory of Relativity, Principia Mathematica, Origin of Species, Works of Rudyard Kipling, National Geographic—

The treasure, buried, of all civilizations, ancient and new. All the civilizations, so to find it you have to know’em all, the philosophies and science, the principal exports, who the kings were, how much money they made.

It’s one thing to get here, kill the natives, you’ve got the knack for that, but it’s another to find where to dig.

“On the crest of the enchanted island, you will find a tree.”

There! There’s the tree!

“You will find a tree, perchance the Tree of Life, moving as we move in the wind. . .” Nice, huh?

“And from this tree, if you need more treasure than the spreading resplendence of this tree—

“—Spend three manly strides to the East, feeling the firm earth underfoot, that stability upon which we live, die and engender our instabilities.” That sounds kinda dirty.

“Then fix your gaze to the winter-mothering North, spend a quatrain of paces thereon.

“But lest we forget that all is not bitter and harsh, then turn to the West, whence the sun slips softly to sleep as the shades of sunset surge into our hearts through the turnstile of our eyes, (gasping) and three steps Westward Ho!

“Yet in that turbulence wherein we must ever on, we turn to the soothing South and are wafted three measures by currents warm with a minstrel strain. Then we shall find ourself at the sprout from whence we began.”

We’ll dig here.

There.

Ah Captain, the vistas ahead! I stand at the brink of sunrise.

Had we not met, I’d be glued to my books, wasting away. “Out out, brief candle.” Shakespeare. After my wife . . . after . . . Let’s see . . . We got married, Flora was born, I finished my dissertation and then my wife . . . I forget.

Ah, whatever happened, it’s hard raising a daughter alone. Dear Flora. Ah, but now she’ll be rich! I’ll marry her off, to you when you get rid of your wife, and then I’ll be free.

Free! No more peeking out dirty windows at girls in their naked-leg skirts. I’ll have’em all, girls, women, old ladies, whatever I want. See one in the street, you want her, you got her. Things you read about. One of those doctors give me shots so I do it five times a night. Bed in every room, mirrors, novelty items. Do it all. I’ll feel young again, like I did when I was young.

And I’ll have respect. Name in the papers. People will have to love me. I’ll pay a lotta sons of bitches back. Five times a night! Oh there’s so much to do!

If you don’t move, advance, progress, ascend, you’re dead. You play the game to win.

The old man has an idea, it sounds crazy, but I had him checked out, he’s smarter than he looks. So we help each other and we each one get what we want. That’s the way people co-exist.

My wife . . . Ellinda . . . Once we were good for each other, we loved each other, we did. But conditions change. Now she’s the shirt your mother bought you before you left home. It isn’t worn out, but you never wear it, it isn’t you.

Yes, that may sound very heartless. But consider the person sitting beside you now. Is that person as nice as you? Don’t you deserve better than that? Ellinda, goodbye!

I just want to stay one step ahead of the pack. I’ve seen too many pathetic old losers like him.

Yes: flatter yourself by looking down on me. You think, “These are the types who gobble the world! I’m supposed to hate him, he’s clearly the villain.” No. Those who hate me are mostly the losers. You can afford the ticket price.

“In hoc signum e non pluribus rerum las muchachas caveat rex. You’re not as smart as you think. Check out the tree.”

The tree. The tree!!!

It’s a. . . oh my. . .

My first conquest!

Flori! Suppose they meet Flori! She wouldn’t know what to do, she’d be—

I’ve gotta do something. Wait! I always run off in all directions. I’ve gotta think. Quick! My mind’s a blank! If life was a novel I could think for pages and pages.

Ah stop being funny! Flori’s in danger. Why can’t I do anything right? I write awful poetry, I try to be the romantic hero, and I’m stuck in a dress in the middle of a swamp.

Millions of people read the same books I do, feel the same feelings, brush with Crest. I’m completely interchangeable. Ah why does Flori love you? Cause she doesn’t know any better?

I’m so tired. I’m always tired when there’s something important to do. Five minutes of experience and I’m exhausted. I’ll be middle-aged before I’m thirty.

I’ll close my eyes while I think. I can think and rest at the same time. To sleep, perchance to dream. And then I’ll rescue Flori.

Dear Lord, why’d you send him here? I was content to be miserable. But now I can’t stand it!

He probably gets all the young girls he wants. I was too pushy. Men don’t like pushy women. That’s not like me. I’m more delicate.

Oh, I feel young again! And it’s awful!

Amen.

I’m going in circles. If Ricardo sees me like this. . . I’m afraid to meet anyone and I’m afraid to be alone.

Why am I . . . me?

If she’s doing something funny, I’ll tear her to pieces.

Well, I pray to my God who forgives and forgets . . . but mostly he just forgets.

Antonio! You got a new home. Into the bag. Even the price of hope is going up.

Another monster. This time a prickly pear.

Mad as a haddock. Cold fish she was, hardly stand the smell.

Wake up. Stop playing insane. Play it straight.

What’s her name? Her name is “Ellinda I forget the rest,” and she’s after a husband who left her.

She lost her mind. He couldn’t see it, so she lost it. It fell down in the cracks. Wake up!

Now she’s awake. No difference. There are aliens walking among us, like old celebrities who can’t find the way out. And she’s awake, but she still can’t tell, it feels like any Tuesday.

Ellinda, how do you find yourself? All over the floor.

It’s when they walk out without ending it. Without a last word. Instead there’s a little sigh, then the slam.

Oh she never liked him that much. She’d laugh at jokes he never told. She watched herself walk straight out of his eyes. She doesn’t want him, but she follows him, his echo. She tries to wake up—

And she wakes. Wednesday. Same thing. We come where we don’t want to be, to touch what we don’t want to touch, look for a face we hope we’ll never see, and that’s freedom.

Come on, wake up enough to go to sleep. Find something jagged, everything’s sanded smooth. She wants to die but she can’t, so she must be . . . already damned and gone to hell! Ellinda’s in hell! Mama’s little baby girl has fell into hell, and there’s no lifeguard.

No, I’m not ready. Punish me later.

Wait, I’ll make a deal. Here. My wedding ring. Solid gold. The perfect marriage. But what you do is, you get a witch to tempt him, and when he’s all hot to do it, he can’t!

Not enough! My watch, take my watch, it says, “Darling, forever.”

But then what you do, when he’s standing there naked, all the walls open up and there’s hundreds of Christmas shoppers staring, and he turns bright blue.

Not enough. No. Hell is flesh. Meat. All right.

Not enough. All right. I can’t feel it. It’s nothing any more. No. Go ahead.

Lady? Ah lady, here, take the ring, I don’t wanta be caught with that. The watch is stuck to my wrist, I’ll put it in my pocket for safe-keeping.

Lady, you didn’t have to go through all that. We could have been friends.

Lady?

Ah lady, you made me forget my gut. But I remember other things.

Leggo, I gotta do it, I got no choice, I’m beside myself, I’m not responsible for my actions, I gotta do what I gotta do, I gotta be me!

I’m sorry. I prefer nonviolence. But you’re making a terrible mistake.

I never did nothing like that before, I ain’t like that, something just come over me—

A poem! I made a poem!

She was married to a man who didn’t love her—

Yes?

Yes?

What is it you want?

What is it you want?

You’re the one that’s defenseless against these magic spells!

Ex bestia homus, ad bestium hominum. Man born of beast, beast born of man.

Tempus arandi et omnes bella animus contra stimulum. Et non putat Minerva et fortunis omnibus decernit ex rege dominus et spiritus sancti non postulo et alvus wraack. . .

Ut, quo sensum omnem wraaack wraackk. . .

Humanitatis ex animus revocare proto wraack. . .

Infernaack infaack infeaaaack waaack waaack waack. . .

—when you worry you simper on in this sniveling little whine—

You understand, don’t you?

—so I can afford to divorce this bitch and marry some woman I respect!

You know what I mean?

—it’s a lie for the last five years because maybe I loved you once but it’s years and I can’t feel a thing!

You believe that?

—I’d be so happy, I’d be the happiest man alive, if you’d only die and I could marry someone who helps me advance instead of clutching on like a crab and dragging me back!

Oh how I wish to God you’d die!

If I could express what I feel!

But I wasn’t supposed to know it. So I was ashamed to know it. So I kept it tucked down in the bottom drawer, and at night I’d take it out and keep it wedged in my mind so we couldn’t breed. And then mornings I’d put it back.

But now you’ve found it. And we both see it. And we don’t know what to call it.

It won’t save the world to have a cup of tea, but it’s a start.

You too.

Ah, wishful thinking.

Maybe she’s not even here. Maybe somebody called her up and she went to the movies instead. I’m nothing special, I’m somewhere around the middle of the alphabet.

Oh Flori! I . . . want you! I want to touch you! I want to feel . . . your body near mine.

Everyone here wants something they think is love. Maybe it is. I want to stop being so stupid. I want to go back to sleep.

How can I find Ricardo? I’m five years old, and Ricardo’s moving away, and I’ve promised to write him but I can’t — cause I don’t know how.

(aloud) Good luck. I hope you meet your friend.

Oh, this is to know where I’m going. And this is to find my way back.

Talk fast, Arlecchino, forget you’re starving. Ok. After I lost Flori I went out but I fell in and came right on through but I didn’t squeal so the judge, well and all I’d asked for was a peanut butter sandwich just like the freeway but it was really flying pigs sent the price of meat sky-high but I opened the door and you can imagine I did what any of you would have done so I wound up in one of those, you know, one of those places but I don’t go for that I like the real thing so I went right in and said Mister Mayor but it was a huge sandwich-like creature with a baloney-sausage tongue and it stepped up to the microphone and—

You can read the rest in the paper tomorrow.

Fingers, front and center. Off to find Flori and food!

Animals! They’re old and stringy, but as the saying goes: Necessity is a mother.

Animals, come here, I’m going to eat you!

I have to be more subtle.

Hey, you wanta see some dirty playing cards? The American Elk in fifty-two provocative poses. . .

No. The paper bag. Antonio, wake up. Into the pocket. Ok, animals, the jig is up. Into the bag.

Antonio! Ok, ant, that’s all she wrote!

Antonio! I have not eaten in three days! What? You haven’t eaten in two weeks?

Yeh, but. . . No, I. . . Ok.

New worlds. Old fools.

But this morning he had this funny look in his eye. He’d found this book, page of a book, he never reads but he starts reading this stuff, and I don’t know, it warped his mind—

Here he is!

Hey honey. I got a surprise.

Look, I found these pages, and you know what? It’s a book of magic! No shit! Really good stuff.

Yeh. “At this point she wants to be dominated. Play the caveman.”

“Incinerate yourself up to her and excite her by whispering the most intimate things.” (after a moment) Uh . . . I got a lot of gas. I been farting all day.

“When she is nearly beside herself, take a deep breath and follow through with—” With what? Where’s the next page?

I did it! I did it!

You hit my baby! You animal!

He says, “Help me.” Where haven’t you heard it? He says, “My eyes are memory, mirror-glass, crack it! I didn’t mean whatever I meant.” That’s nice.

“I’m the man in the joker-show that’s telling the story, forgets the end, and stands there.”

So he regrets things. The sink full of regrets from all the meals. Oh get out!

Old memories nuzzle up and gnaw. The girl, I caught a flash in the mirror, hair like mine, like it was.

Finish it out. Ellinda.

You drank salt in your tea, that makes it a magic tea. Now you can be whatever you want. The little bird, the serpent, the cat: all the little ladies in your heart.

I have to leave you. I’m starting to think straight. I almost remembered my name, and then there’d be no magic, no magic, no magic no more.

Good luck. He’s starting to twist again.

No excuse. I was caught off guard. Life is either promotion or humiliation. Sweat or spit.

So. I’ll find my wife, I’ll take her home, and then we’ll see. Maybe this will have an effect, shake her up, send a message. She is after all my wife, and one loves one’s wife.

Finally, disregard whatever you think you saw. You’re not qualified to judge. It might go on my record. They keep everything on file.

That’s all.

Ellinda!

Ellinda!

I was changing clothes and I heard a sound and there’s a huge ugly man staring at me. I think he . . . wanted me.

And then I ran, faster than I ever ran in my life, and I got away.

O Ricardo, this couldn’t be the island in the storybook. They must have changed the address.

I’m so tired. I know Ricardo is here. He is, he’ll find me, and he’ll know what to do. He’ll put his arms around me, and I’ll be safe.

Please don’t! I’ve come to meet someone, we’re going to be married. Please, I’m sorry! Please don’t, I’m afraid to be hurt! Please don’t!

Do it to somebody else!

Flori! No. She’s nowhere on the island. She never came.

A woman’s blouse. Soft and sweet. Sticky. Some woman without her blouse was running in the woods.

Should that be exciting? Should I feel . . . aroused? Am I a man or— I’m nineteen years old and I don’t know . . . what it’s like. I don’t even know if I’d like it.

Well I’m going to find out. Dammit, I’m gonna do it with the very next woman who comes along. I am. I mean it. I don’t care, the very next. I will.

Come on, somebody! I dare you! Come on!

—go over there and go to sleep. Fast.

Damn kid.

Dear God, I don’t know what I’m doing or what comes over me or what’s right or wrong so don’t pay attention, amen!

Oh, you’ll be my handsome prince and you’ll take me in your arms and carry me away. You’ll kiss my eyelids, you’ll be so sweet and gentle, you’ll whisper my name and you’ll swear to be forever true. You’ll love me for what I am, and say I’m the most beautiful girl, and the moments we spend together will be the sweetest of our lives.

My darling . . . sweep me away!

Making love to my wife, I’m gonna kill you, you sonofabitch! Can’t you see she’s a mother?

You bastard! You son of a bitch! You son-of-a-bitching bastard!

No, you ain’t getting any more money, I work hard for a living—

When will return the glory of your prime?

No more, O never more!

All right. Goodbye then.

I can do it, I know I can. I can do it, I know I can. I can do it, I know I can. I can . . . not see a goddamned thing.

I’m blind! The page! It’ll tell me what to do, where is it? Here it is! I can’t see it.

O what have I done! Mirrors, naked women, what good would they do me now? My first treasure hunt. My first!

Well, that’s it. Nothing to be done.

        An old age serene and bright,

        And lovely as a Lapland night,

        Shall lead thee to thy grave.

Early Wordsworth. An old man would never have written that.

My father was old and weak and he wanted to die and I hoped he would. He lay there, said to me, “You’ve got your whole life ahead, and I’m in the way.” And I agreed. I don’t want Flori to feel like that. I’ll just die and be done.

This is no joke, I am really going to die.

How? I’ve never died before. I could hang myself. (checking shoelaces) No. Poison? Tastes icky. Blow out my brains? That’s dangerous.

Wait. I’ll stop up my nose and mouth so no air can escape, and then I’ll die.

The air comes out below.

Listen, if one of you people would please die first, just to show me how?

Ah, you spend your whole life looking in the rear-view mirror to see if death’s after you for speeding, and then when you need him, where the hell is he?

Wait! The formula. I’ll think myself to death.

I can do it, I know I can. I can do it, I know I can. I can do it. . .

I have to!

Dead? Dying? Just a little moldy?

It’s my boss, the Professor. Wait. Don’t celebrate, he’s not dead. There’s a spark of life. The mind wishes to die, but the heart does not.

I’ll make sure. Kootchie-koo. One beat for yes, two for no. You want to live? No? How about the belly, you want to live? The liver, how bout you? (to groin) You I won’t even ask.

Doesn’t anybody here want to live?

Aha!

Everybody’s getting into the act. All together now, one two three!

Satisfaction guaranteed.

It’s wild animals! Look out! You’ll be killed before you die!

Flori, I’ll save you! It’s your daddy! Come to daddy!

I wanted to say, “I loved you, love you still.”

I wanted to say, “Now you see me, we’re naked at last.”

But the time was done, the lips were stone, the words were gone.

“For you whose love is sweet yet troubled—” That’s us. “And you who want never to part—”

And paper. Books. I know all about books. They all say the same thing: “The best things in life are free, except this book.”

“The Hungry Magician.” It’s a magic book. “The starvation-budget spell for pork roast.” Pork roast! Antonio, we’re gonna turn you into one big helluva pork roast. Here goes.

“A.F.L. G.O.P. I.R.S. A.T. & T. C.I.A. D.D.T. PORKROAST!”

It’s a pork roast. What a handful! It’s . . . my hand. Where’s my hand? In the roast. Wait a minute here.

“To get the roast, you have to put the bite on somebody, and on the starvation budget you can only put the bite on yourself.”

Well, here goes.

Arlecchino, be brave, think of your blessings!

Freedom of speech!

Manifest Destiny!

Smile, Arlecchino, work on that smile!

Look, he’s so old and ugly, it’s a blessed thing he’s blind.

Oh!

Who’s looking after the cat?

The magic’s gone. . . I’ll squint harder. . . It’s gone. The magic’s gone.

You know, you’ve become really a part of me. And you will remain forever a part of me.

Enjoy, Antonio, you got the whole place to yourself.

        Wherever we go, whatever we do

        We’re going to go—

Antonio, you little bugger. I wouldn’t eat you now if you paid me. Yeh, I know you got a family to think of.

I was supposed to say something profound, but I forget.

I feel empty. So now what? Where to go, what to be?

I could visit Africa as a one-man famine. I could check the want ads for jobs as a glutton. I could commit terrorist acts to establish a homeland for the Peanut Butter Sandwich.

I could guzzle, gorge, engorge, gormandize, gobble, gulp, cram, stuff, wolf and devour the Gross National Product.

Or I could find another play in which to be ravenously amazed.

        Wherever I go, whatever I do

        I’m gonna get through it together.

        Wherever I go, I go, I go. . .

        Whatever I do, I do, I do. . .