Mark

How I used to chase you around this very room? You didn’t like that either.

Frank

I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to seduce me. Do you know what the statistic is for gays reconciling after a break up?

Mark

You’re going to tell me aren’t you?

Frank

It’s practically nil.

Mark

Thank you, Geraldo Rivera. Now let’s forget it.

Frank

I’ll never forget the time you left the cat alone in the apartment in New York. With the window open.

Mark

I was only gone for a half hour.

Frank

If you were in the army you could have been shot for leaving your post.

Mark

For going to Bloomingdale’s?

Frank

It was the seventeenth floor.

Mark

Why can’t you admit that there was never anything really wrong?

Frank

That’s a switch. You used to say it was my mother.

Mark

I still think Rambo had a profound effect on her.

Frank

I only asked you here because I thought we both needed a sense of closure. Let’s start acting like grown men.

Mark

Okay. Who’s gonna play your part?

Frank

Grown men Mark.

Mark

I had this peculiar dream. What do you think of dreams?

Frank

I don’t go in for them.

Mark

Well, I had this peculiar dream. I’m in a city surrounded by water. It’s gentle rhythm is felt everywhere. It’s Venice, or Genoa. I’m standing before an easel holding a painbrush and I’m about to paint something on which I know my destiny depends. An assistant is standing by and he looks like you. A happy you, mixing colors. A rainbow of colors. Then, with a talent I never possessed, I begin to paint in oils. I know they are oils because unlike watercolors, they have a feeling of permanence. As I continue I feel growing within me a sense of discovery, of joy, or somethink like joy. It’s very physical. It’s orgasmic, but spiritual too. Finally, what I’ve been painting begins to take shape and I could see what it is. It’s the tree of life. Suddenly my assistant tears the paintbrush from my hand and I awaken.

Frank

Is this about my life stifling qualities? You won’t tell Harold will you?

Mark

I think Harold would fuck up his own wet dream. And I don’t think you have sex with him at all. Him, or anybody.

Frank

Look. I wouldn’t mind if you left now.

Mark

I can’t. Frank What’s stopping you?

Mark

I never wanted to say goodbye at this goodbye dinner.

Frank

We’ve talked this thing to a frazzle, and I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, but you’d always known about my…problem.

Mark

I thought things would change after a while. Silly old me.

Frank

Crying, praying, even therapy. Deep down somewhere I know there’s nothing really wrong with me. I’ve just got to find the right voice in my head to tell me that it’s…okay to feel good. One that I’ll believe. Mark, you were wonderfully patient.

Mark

I used to dream about the kind of life we could have together.

Frank

You’re quite a dreamer aren’t you?

Mark

I liked the idea of having a lover ensconced in a nest and never having to forage for the food of love.

Frank

Now you sound like a greeting card.

Mark

Who says I can’t wax poetic about what might have been?

Frank

I’m damned sorry, Mark. I’m so very, very sorry. I care about you…deeply, and your leaving was painful, but I would never stand in your way.

Mark

I know, but if you’d only…

Frank

Look, when I was a boy, we had these chickens in a shed on the farm. I used to hug those chickens and cry myself sick, because there was no one there to return those hugs. It…kind of…numbed me. Understand?

Mark

Would it help if I wore a feather boa?

Frank

You’ve been sarcastic, you’ve been a wit, but you’ve never been trashy before.

Mark

(Crumples in the chair) Oh, so now I’m trashy too.

Frank

(Moving to him). My God, are you crying?

Mark

(Begins to sob) Trashy indeed. What about you? You fall in love at the first hum of a Waring blendor.

Frank

I’ve never seen you cry.

Mark

I’ll cry if I want to. Baritones can cry too you know.

Frank

Oh, that’s not all you are. You’re so much more than a baritone.

Mark

You’re so insensitive.

Frank

I am not insensitive.

Mark

You just don’t really like men. Why don’t you admit it?

Frank

I don’t like men? Me? I’m a doctor. I’ve admired more men in and out of their clothes than you’ve counted quarter notes. And you! I got soppy over you. Suffered like Romeo and bayed at the moon. But now I’m on to you. I’m on to all of you. The only thing you’re capable of loving is a cat or a….

Mark

A chicken? (Wails).

Frank

…or a little dog. That’s why I gave you the puppy. So you shouldn’t die of loneliness, I gave you the puppy. I’ve had it, with your soft lips, your husky whispers, your muscular thighs, I no longer, I….I

Mark

(Suddenly stops sobbing). Well? Go on.

Frank

I think…I got myself excited.

Mark

You mean…physically?

Frank

Every way.

Mark

Well, don’t stop! I mean let’s wrestle or something.

Frank

Wrestle?

Mark

Yeah, keep up the stimulation. Man to man.

Frank

You’re crazy.

(Mark tackles him and they fall on the floor with screams and gasps.)

Mark

I hate you. I just HATE you!!!

Frank

I’ll never forgive you for this!

(They finally end up in a very prolonged kiss.)

Frank

I love you.

Mark

You do?

Frank

I love you.

Mark

Say it again.

Frank

Oh come on. I love you. (pause) Well?

Mark

Well what?

Frank

Now it’s your turn to say it.

Mark

You love me.

(Harold enters from the UR door. He stares down at them a moment.)

Harold

Oh, please don’t get up. I’m just passing through. (Steps over them).

Mark

Say Harry.

Harold

Yes Mark?

Mark

How would you like a nice little puppy?

Blackout.

The play is over