ACT I

WE DO NOT BELONG TOGETHER

The studio. George end Dot have been talking, Dot growing more end more upset.

DOT
Yes, George, run to your work. Hide behind your painting. I have come to tell you I am leaving because I thought you might care to know-foolish of me, because you care about nothing-

GEORGE
I care about many things-

DOT
Things-not people.

GEORGE
People, too. I cannot divide my feelings up as neatly as you, and I am not hiding behind my canvas-I am living in it.

DOT
What you care for is yourself.

GEORGE
I care for this painting. You will be in this painting.

DOT
I am something you can use.

GEORGE
I had thought you understood.

DOT
It's because I understand that I left,
That I am leaving.

GEORGE
Then there's nothing I can say,
Is there?

DOT
Yes. George, there is:
You could tell me not to go.
Say it to me.
Tell me not to go.
Tall me that you're hurt,
Tell me you're relieved,
Tell me that you're bored-
Anything, but don't assume I know.
Tell me what you feel!

GEORGE
What I feel?
You know exactly how I feel.
Why do you insist
You must hear the words,
When you know I cannot give you words?
Not the ones you need.
there's nothing to say.
I cannot be what you want.

DOT
What do you want, George?

GEORGE
I needed you and you left.

DOT
There was no room for me-

GEORGE
You will not accept who I am.
I am what I do-
Which you knew,
Which you always knew,
Which I thought you were a part of!

DOT
No,
You are complete, George,
You are your own.
We do not belong together.
You are complete, George,
You are alone.
I am unfinished,
I am diminished
With or without you.
We do not belong together,
And we should have belonged together.
What made it so right together
Is what made it all wrong.
No one is you, George.
There you agree,
But others will do, George.
No one is you and
No one can be,
But no one is me, George,
No one is me.
We do not belong together.
And we'll never belong-!

You have a mission,
A mission to see.
Now I have one too, George.
And we should have belonged together.
I have to move on.

BEAUTIFUL

Another Sunday in the Park. The Old Lady sits starring across the water George is sketching her.

OLD LADY
Changing...
It keeps changing.
I see towers
Where there were trees.
Going,
All the stillness,
The solitude,
Georgie.
Sundays,
Disappearing
All the time,
When things were beautiful...

GEORGE
All things are beautiful,
Mother,
All trees, all towers,
Beautiful.
That tower-
Beautiful, Mother,
See?
A perfect tree.

Pretty isn't beautiful, Mother,
Pretty is what changes.
What the eye arranges
Is what is beautiful.

OLD LADY
Fading:"

GEORGE
I'm changing.
You're changing.

OLD LADY
It keeps fading...

GEORGE
I'll draw us now before we fade,
Mother.

OLD LADY
It keeps melting
Before our eyes.

GEORGE
You watch
While I revise the world.

OLD LADY
Changing,
As we sit here-
Quick, draw it all,
Georgie...

BOTH
Sundays-

OLD LADY
Disappearing,
As we look-

GEORGE
Look!... Look!...

OLD LADY
(not listening, fondly)
You make it beautiful.
Oh, Georgie, how I long for the old view.

SUNDAY

The park is now crowded with people. Arguments break out among the strollers, erupting into total chaos.

OLD LADY
Remember, George.

GEORGE
Order.
(Everyone turns to him. George looks at each of the people. He nods to them, one by one, and each takes a position in the perk.)
Design.
Tension.
Balance.
Harmony.

(They begin to promenade. George moves about, setting trees, cutouts and figures-making e perfect picture.)
ALL
Sunday,
By the blue
Purple yellow red water
On the green
Purple yellow red grass,
Let us Pass
Through our perfect park,
Pausing on a Sunday
By the cool
Blue triangular water
On the soft
Green elliptical grass
As we pass
Through arrangements of shadows
Towards the verticals of trees
Forever...

By the blue
Purple yellow red water
On the green
Orange violet mass
Of the grass
In our perfect park

GEORGE
Made of flecks of light
And dark,
And parasols:
Bumbum bum bumbumbum
Bumbum bum...

ALL
People strolling through the trees
Of a small suburban park
On an island in the river
On an ordinary Sunday...
(They all reach their final positions.)
Sunday...
(They turn into their final poses.)
Sunday...
(George freezes them into the image of the painting.)