In Love But No Longer With You

Shh! says a voice from behind Belle et Bonne. Stop that moaning. It's not fair to Anna Percy.

Anna Percy looks down from the stage in the direction of the moaning.

It's okay. she says. I'm cool with moaning. It kind of works in with my theme.

Then it's cheating, says Young Dawkins, from the sidelines. Sorry. The moaning must stop.

Ageless has come down from the stage intending to sit beside Belle et Bonne.

He climbs up on the seat with the basket, the source of the moaning, which has now ceased.

Ageless is still sobbing in a theatrical fashion, but softly, so as not to raise the ire of Young Dawkins.

He pushes the basket to the edge of the seat where it teeters.

Watch! cries Belle et Bonne. I don't want her to fall!

Uh-uh-uh-sniff , gulps Ageless, his tears drying. Who's in the basket?

Ageless peers into the basket.

Beloved! he cries. My creamy clammy girlfriend! Come out! Was that you moaning?

Yes Ageless, says Kobo, it was me.

You heard my heart rending poem? says Ageless. It affected you so?

You could say that, says Kobo. I was affected by the shock of discovering you had not been eaten.

You were moaning with joy! Ah, I knew it, says Ageless.  Come let me join you in the basket. Is there by any chance a lid?

Ageless, you are making an assumption, says Kobo. I was not moaning with joy, but desolation. I am in love but no longer with you. My love must remain a secret, however, because it cannot be requited.

Anna Percy has stopped. She is listening.

So is everyone else.

In a room full of poets, who is Kobo in love with?

There is one way to find out.

Young Dawkins comes over. He peers into the basket.

Madam, says Young Dawkins. Do I intuit that you are a poet?

At heart, admits Kobo, I am. Though I usually keep myself to myself, being a fossilised clam.

None the less, may I on behalf of everyone present invite you to come up to the stage and be our special guest poet of the evening? It would be a great treat and an honour for us all, wheedles Young Dawkins.

Kobo assents modestly.

It's a gamble on the part of Young Dawkins.

What if Kobo chooses not to unburden her heart?

She may have bottled up poems about the boredom of being a fossil for eons and eons.

Time may be wasted.