Lancelot

unacceptable, Jesus?)
    MARGOT : Jesus, men. You are all so—
    (Jesus what?)
    Were they talking about me?
    No.
    They embrace again. Blobs like breasts swell on Merlin’s shoulder and blow off toward Margot.
    MERLIN : I fear for—But I wish you both ever—
    (I fear for you. But I wish you both every happiness.)
    You both? Me? No.
    MARGOT : ( A deprecative murmur.)
    MERLIN : I love you so f (?)—v (?)—much.
    (I love you so fucking much? so very much? probably the former considering the two-syllable beat.)
    MARGOT : I love you—oh s—(?)—oh sh—(?)
    (I love you too. Oh so much. Or: I love you too. Oh shit, or sheet? or she-it. Probably the last, two beats, two syllables, and knowing Margot.)
    MERLIN : DO you believe I love—enough—truth?
    (? ? ?)
    MARGOT : (A wary murmur.)
    MERLIN : Why—wonder—
    (? ? ?)
    MERLIN : —could be exploit—
    (He could be exploiting you?)
    MARGOT : (Turning away: they come apart, Y becoming II.)
    MERLIN : (An expostulation.)
    MARGOT : !
    MERLIN : —mon—
    (? ? ?) (Money?)
    MARGOT : NO.
    MERLIN : Christ—not—even sure—part.
    (Christ, you’re not even sure you have the part?)
    MARGOT : You bas—
    (You bastard.)
    MERLIN : Well—?
    MARGOT : Up—oars, oo bas—
    (Up yours, you bastard.)
    MERLIN : Oh, Jesus—I’d kike—oars.
    (Oh, Jesus how I’d like to be up yours?)
    MARGOT : (An indifferent murmur.)
    MERLIN : Besides that—a basic incap—intimace—
    (Besides that he has a basic incapacity for intimacy?)
    MARGOT : I don’t care.
    MERLIN : What a lousy trucking fire engine.
    (What a lousy fucking triangle? I am reasonably sure of this reading: that it was not Elgin’s equipment but Merlin himself who scrambled “fucking triangle” to “trucking fiangle” (fire engine). A joke. Yes, I am 99 percent sure.)
    MARGOT : DO you believe I still—you?
    (Do you believe I still love you?)
    MERLIN : Oh, Chr—
    MARGOT : Sh—sh—sh!
    (Shush shush shush? or: shit shit shit? shit shit shit.)
    The tiny figurines embrace again, sectors of their trunks blowing out like pseudopods of amoebae. Their bodies seem to have magnetic properties.
    MERLIN : —wish you—all happ—
    (I wish y’all happiness? I wish you all happiness? The latter? Merlin wouldn’t say “y’all.”)
    Merlin vanishes. Margot droops and is still, like a puppet hung from its string.
    It is a triangle. At first I thought I was part of the triangle, the losing angle, so:

    Then I see they are not talking about me at all, that it is a different triangle:

    Another figure materializes (they don’t seem to use doors). It is Jacoby. There is no way of recognizing him except by his shortness and stockiness and his big head, which he carries confidently between his shoulders. Like many short men he is of a piece, body, brain, organs compacted and operating in close order. All would be well with him, one feels, except he is shorter than Margot. He makes up for this shortcoming by a kind of confident lolling back of head. It is his way of not having to look up at her; he holds her off as if to say: Well, my dear, let’s have a look at you.
    They make a Y connected as far as the waist.
    They do not speak but their mouths and eyes open on light. Are they whispering?
    They dress, putting dark on light. No, it is undressing, for dark is light and light is dark. They are shedding light clothes for dark skin.
    They approach each other. Sections of their bodies detach and fly off. Other sections extend pseudopods.
    They turn, their hair blowing sideways in an electric wind. There are two sockets of light on Margot’s back. They are, I recognize, the two dimples on either side of her sacrum.
    Margot lies across the bed and pulls him onto her. He is gazing down at her. Her head comes off the bed and bends back until her face is looking upside down at the camera. Her eyes close on light, but her mouth opens letting out light.
    Still there is no conversation but presently a voice says, at first I think from my room or even from the sky with the blackbirds: Oh oh oh ah ah aaah, oh my Jesus oh ah ah sh — sh — sh —
    ? ? ?
    But the voice is not immediately recognizable as either Margot’s or Jacoby’s, being hoarser than Margot’s and higher than Jacoby’s.
    A prayer?
    INTERMISSION
    I switch off the machine and walk out into the