An Oasis In Brooklyn
(Two men from Brooklyn are stuck crawling on their hands and knees through a desert)
MERLIN: I’m so thirsty.
ANDREW: If only I had some kombucha…
MERLIN: And hot. I’m absolutely sweltering. I would take off my clothes but with all the sweat that’s pouring out of me, my clothes have somehow become tighter on my skin.
ANDREW: I don’t know, I’ve actually been wearing a dashiki this whole time so I’ve been pretty comfortable…
MERLIN: Still, I’m parched. I just want a craft brew and a girl in a sundress with chunky glasses and even chunkier necklaces. IS THAT SO HARD TO FIND AROUND HERE?
(His cries echo unanswered off the bare, desert dunes)
MERLIN: You know, this reminds of that one book from the 80s that no one read that—
ANDREW: Or that one documentary about the band of Jamaican skaters from the 20s who invented–
MERLIN: Or even that new album that features the call of woodland — Wait! Do you see that in the distance?
ANDREW: Yeah, I saw it a while ago. It’s just a little gauche to get all excited over a trader’s post.
(They both approach a Bedouin tent)
MERLIN: Do you have any water?
(The Bedouin pulls out a bottle of water from the cooler)
MERLIN: Oh. It’s bottled in an environmentally unfriendly way.
ANDREW: Plus it clashes with my dashiki.
MERLIN: Does it really?
(MERLIN holds the bottle of water up to ANDREW’S dashiki and they both look from the water to the dashiki and then back to the water again multiple times).
MERLIN: Hmmm… you’re right, it does. The clearness of the water really doesn’t go well with it. I’m sorry sir, we can’t buy this and we have to move on.
ANDREW: Cool tent though. Really authentic, man.
(They both venture back out into the desert)
MERLIN: I wonder if someone will do a long-form investigative journalism piece about us?
ANDREW: I wonder if I’ll be able to start the conversation for once?
(They crawl in silence until they reach the crest of another dune)
MERLIN: Hey look, I wasn’t trying to be overbearing or anything, I was just–
ANDREW: Hey look! Down there! Water, palm trees, novels!
(They both scamper towards a stunningly beautiful oasis and about to drink when MERLIN turns to ANDREW)
MERLIN: Wait! Is it ironic enough if we get our physical salvation from an oasis?
ANDREW: You’re right it’s far too cliché. The whole oasis theme is way overplayed.
MERLIN: Nothing to do but trudge on until we find another place where we can refuse water…
ANDREW: We have it so rough.
A | A | A
Will it feel the same when you tell me you love me over the phone? Will the peacefulness of those words still floor me from thousands of miles away?
I was conflicted. It felt like one eye was trying to look away while the other soaked it up. I felt the heat rise in my face. This was wrong. But it didn’t feel wrong.
Any nervous flyer knows the progression of descending panic: bile, sweaty palms, social awkwardness and self-induced sedation.
I know how it feels when the weight of darkness crashes down onto your chest in the middle of the night, and how you wish things would stop spinning because the axis seems tilted now. I know, love, I know.