How Memory Fails Us

Young Dawkins ignores Ageless lobster and walks up to Paul Verlaine.

How's our sacrificial poet? says Young Dawkins.

Quietly confident, says Paul Verlaine.

Sacrificial poet? Ageless is intrigued.

Do they know Arthur is coming?

No they don't. Arthur walks in just at that moment, and stops in front of Paul.

Paul, says Arthur.

Arthur, says Paul.

Only Paul says it squeakily, being mighty surprised to see Arthur.

Ageless eyes Arthur's pocket. Arthur's hand plunges in and draws out...... a knife!

Young Dawkins goggles.

There is going to be a Murder! Ageless sits down to take note.

This is for you, says Arthur, holding it up to Paul's face.

A knife? says Paul Verlaine. Why a knife, Arthur?

I borrowed yours, says Arthur. Fossicking in Alice Springs, remember? I never gave it back.

That was a scraper, says Paul. I lent you a scraper.

I don't think so, says Arthur. I had my own scraper.

Well what happened to mine? says Paul Verlaine.

The two poets look puzzled.

How memory fails us.

Young Dawkins is feeling relieved that his sacrificial poet is not going to be murdered.

Ageless has some regrets.

I brought you these as well, says Arthur, pulling out the three yellow macarons.

They've got cuts in them, says Paul. They are crumbly, and why are they yellow?

It's a long story, says Arthur. I wanted green.

Green, says Paul. I thought so.

Are you going to eat them? asks Young Dawkins. Young Dawkins likes macarons.

Are we? says Arthur. He looks searchingly into the eyes of his former lover.

No, says Paul. We are not going to eat them.

He turns and walks out.

Arthur stares after him.

I say, says Young Dawkins, are you Arthur Rimbaud?

Yes, says Arthur. I am.

I'm Young Dawkins, says Young Dawkins. Host of the Slam. Looks like we've lost our sacrificial poet. Would you like to take his place?

Arthur is about to ask if the role involves bloodshed when he spots Ageless trying to slip inconspicuously down from a chair.

Excuse me a minute, says Arthur. I just need a word with the lobster. Hold these.

He shoves the macarons at Young Dawkins.

Take your time, says Young Dawkins, picking at the bright yellow crumbs.