This is a scene from " The Play" Co-written and directed with Greg Josselyn. It attempts to address, sexuality disability and the search for love. I think I will let it speak for itself:
EKIWAH TRIES TO CLIMB INTO A SEX SHOP
davis, a man on the street, walks by.
without introduction, ekiwah asks:
Can I get into the sex shop?
Can I get into the sex shop?
It’s right there. You 18?
davis points to the sex shop
I can’t get in.
You need a fake ID?
The only way in is if you checked the amount of stairs.
What I’m really asking you.
Is if you can carry me up there.
Wha. Ah. Hm. Oh. Okay. Um.
See, the problem is that my back is out.
I would do it, man. Believe me. I honestly would do it. But. It really.
Would you mind checking the number of steps?
davis scopes it out
Looks like at least 15.
Do you think I could crawl?
Okay. What. (!) What are you gonna do – come in there on all fours like a
jungle boy? That’s crazy, man!
They’ve -- They’ve --- you know, they put ramps everywhere!
They’ve got a wheelchair accessible Post Office!
And they pride themselves on being the most wheelchair accessible---
I don’t know. They pride themselves on being the most wheelchair accessible
They have a wheelchair accessible campus.
You can almost go EVERYWHERE in this town!
And. A Sex Shop.
Which is. Sex is one of the most basic things to mankind, you know?
It’s not accessible.
Because there’s this assumption!
Okay. Come on, man. It’s nothing special up there. What do you want me to
do. I have no problem --- if you have money, I’ll go up and buy you
condoms. Like, it’s not a big deal. You want a movie? Fine. Your business,
What’s so fascinating about this thing?
You know, you’re really pushing me here. Cause, you know, I’ve got to get to
Well. What I’m wanting, is, I think there must be something, something more.
Which isn’t something that you can transport. Like, I don’t know, like. A dark
room with stars on the rooftop. And a gypsy swirling woman who owns a
tiger. And then, as I crawl up, well, it’s based on a dream I had. I, I find out
that I am the tiger and I’ve just escaped from the zoo and I’m just hungry for
food. And they sell these magic pens that you can only use to write on
somebody else’s body. They will only write on somebody else’s naked body,
not on paper.
And there’s just love.
Love. And you know, like that poem of Stanley Kunitz.
“Summer is late my heart. Words plucked out of the air some forty years ago
when I was wild with love. Darling, do you remember the man you married?
Touch me. Remind me who I am.”
Like, that kind of a feeling, you know?
Oh, no no no. I’m very happy with my life.
I’ll try someone else.
Have a beautiful day.
starts to turn away
No, no, no. But seriously, man. Honestly. I just want to tell you, yah, I totally
hear you. I just want to say.
It’s not what you think it is.
. . . .
It’s . . . It’s . . . Well. I rented a movie from there once.
And then I saw the woman was really thin, her bones were all sticking out
she had pounds of make up to cover her sleep rings and I was like, why? You
know what I mean? That girl looked really bad – And I’m sorry, real people
don’t look like that.
And like, she was being so objectified and looked so miserable and I just
vomited. It was disgusting. I’m just trying to say. You are such a nice guy.
And honestly, the stuff down there, you don’t know who you would meet, or
who would take advantage of you. Just be careful, okay?
I guess I thought . . .
Never-mind, thank you. Thank you for your help.
a woman appears
ekiwah is struck by her
she climbs up to the sex shop
inspired, ekiwah writes a letter to a lover he doesn’t know yet:
I sing to your invisible shape
thickening in the frost on my window
and disappearing as I touch you
In the married women
whose bodies I cannot reach
I'm reminded of your boldness
They travel beneath the earth
to make love with death and live doubly
shooting spring into the minerals of the underground.
I dream of the pomegranate scattering
her jeweled laughter
across rivers and sinewy orchards
and young women shimmering light
within the day's gray studios
I wont be able to lift you into bed
jog with you on the beach
or unbutton you quickly
but I will come slowly
rolling on wheels
I strive to hear
the wind between the small cracks
of one sentence and another
bearing news of you
My body is an erect bamboo hungering heat
I'm not cut out for monastic love