YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT THEY DID
These two men standing across from each other, you do not know what they did. Around them the chaos of a prison riot. There is a general ruckus in Cellblock 7A. A man has just drowned in a toilet bowl, his face blue from inhaling too much toilet cake he did not even want. He has the face of a dog. A pig dog. (He is a pig dog, but you do not know what he did.)
The first man steps forward.
The first man says to the second man, the prison man, “Why did you do it? I must only know.”
The second man, the prison man, says, “I did not do it.”
First man: “She was my only daughter.”
Second man: “You do not know what I did.”
First man is crying like a boy baby.
Second man says: “You should know this. She was wearing her panda suit when it happened.”
First man is blinking his eyes in wonderment: “You saw it?”
Second man, smiling truthfully man to man: “I loved her.”
First man: “She was most at home in her panda suit.”
Second man: “For her, eating bamboo with her dirty feet was life’s greatest treat.”
First man, laughing now, wiping tears: “My panda girl.”
Second man: “May I abuse you now?”
Around them the prison riot spills out from Cellblock 7A. The guards run in all directions fighting off angry prisoners with fire pokers and difficult-to-use devices found in the Prison Warden’s Great Room.
Second man, prison man, unlocks door, and takes first man, daughter man, in a loving panda embrace.