Caspian

by Benjamin Buchholz

                TREVAIL
Cored camera, just the shell, as if the guts got in the way of whizzing tabernacle mornings on the blue bank of the sky, we're here, Oscar, see us reflected, we're here and we've begun to soar.

                OSCAR
I want a popsicle.

                TREVAIL
When the train came . . .

                OSCAR
I want a popsicle.

                TREVAIL
When the train came . . .

                OSCAR
I want . . .

                TREVAIL
Oscar! . . . when it came it came butterflying along half-naked in the way the big iron shivers in the cool sweating, leapt up from its tracks across the road, across the first field poppy-bright as it goes to wild in the ruin of the town where we grew up together, remember it?, you're probably thinking if you're thinking at all well how old can she be?, this girl with the strange name and the water wings and the brother here ready to leap, how old can she be if she's talking about naked trains and that cool shiver, oh, let me tell you we grow up strange and fast, treating us like a chrysalis like a cellophane something you can preserve. I've been up here for ages witnessing the blue, I have.

                OSCAR
Don't cry.

                TREVAIL
I'm not.  I don't.

                OSCAR
Can we go now?

                TREVAIL
We can go.  But just a minute, give me a moment more, brother, you see it there, the brightness gleaming back at us?, the halo of it, the shiver, it's coming quick and black and rankling, it'll be here bothering us and we'll have to catch it right at the right instant as it passes, look through the steam, look through the ring around it into the very eye of it, it's a camera, it's a box inside of which we will run away to a country with a bright blue name like a sea locked in the gearwork of trial and age.

                OSCAR
I have to pee.  It's been a long time now.  Can we go?

                TREVAIL
Toes first.  I'll follow you.