San Francisco, 1975
Jonestown, 1978
They came out with pitchforks when we
moved here. The women in their white pearls and pressed gloves, the men dressed
to the nines in suits and ties, beat down to a steaming pulp after a long day
at the office, wraiths fastening their lips to big orange bullhorns like it was
the bottom of the ninth at a Giants game. The whitest of white stalking the
joint, out in the street for a tea party, pinkies raised at attention.
We could see the Bay curling out at us when we
drove in from Cottonwood, California, the five of us packed into the Dodge, watching
green-eyed monster waves cut in pieces by the bridge, shimmering, debating,
telling us how ‘the Cause’ was gonna cure everything.
Workshopped at the Robey Theatre Company Playwrights' Workshop
