Confessions

My dear, sit down. Sit. It's all right. Sit down, I said. My darling Diana, please. Sit down here or I'll shoot you in the face.

With what? With this little charmer. Nice, huh?

Where did I get it? Where did I get it? The store. Listen. First of all, I want to tell you that you're right to suspect me of cheating. I have been. With four women. Five if you count finger-banging. One of them wants me to move with her to Norway. Or Peru or something, I forget. Hey, don't move. I don't want to see you move. My point is that I haven't taken any of their calls for a week. For at least three days. I'm through. See, I've done a lot of --

Oh, please. Please buck up. Hear me out, it's going to get better. C'mon. Oh do what you want. I've done a lot of thinking over the last few days. I haven't slept a wink. Here's the thing. They could all seven live with me in this house, semi-nude, servile. They're fascinating women, too. One is a Marshall-winning poet --

Good God! You sound like an ambulance! Hush, baby. Please. It's all right. Hush now. I'm talking. As I was saying, they could all seven live here with me. They could love me or hate me, fuck my brains out or line-edit my manuscripts. I'd still kill myself if you weren't around. I would. That was this little guy's first mission. See, you're going to get a phone call in a few days from a strange woman. She'll tell you some things, some of them true. But I know, I know if I can get you to sit here long enough and hear me out, that won't matter. Once all my heart's revealed, and this is the only way I can do it, you'll forgive me. Pay no attention, darling, to my little tear. He's just escaping through the window from a burning vessel. Oh Diana, don't you know? You're the only thing I can possibly conjure feeling for. I've written you a sonnet, love. I wrote you three, actually, plus two lyric poems and a more free-form piece which I'll sing for you at the piano later tonight. But this first sonnet introduces the series. Ahem.

"Your hair reminds me of a warm safe place
Where as a child I'd hide and pray
For the thunder and the rain to --"

No. Uh uh. Sit down. Darling I'll shoot you. In the leg. Just listen to the whole thing, it gets better. Turn around. Fine, don't turn around, the easier to shoot you. I'm sorry about the first few lines, if you don't like them. In fact I didn't even write them. Diana. Don't you dare touch that knob. I'll shoot you through the door. I'm going to do it. I'll. Oh. Oh, no. ... Careful on the stairwell, Diana! I'll call you!