Erasing 9/11

(a play on a poem by Edson)

     A father with a huge eraser erases his 9/11. When he finishes there's only a red smudge on the wall.
     His wife says, where is 9/11?
     She's a mistake, I erased her.
     What about all her lovely things? asks his wife.
     I'll erase them too.
     All her pretty clothes? . . .
     I'll erase her closet, her dresser--shut up about 9/11! Bring your head over here and I'll erase 9/11 out of it.
     The husband rubs his eraser on his wife's forehead, and as she begins to forget she says, hummm, I wonder whatever happened to 9/11 . . .
     Never heard of her, says her husband.
     And you, she says, who are you? You're not 9/11, are you? I don't remember your being 9/11. Are you my 9/11, whom I don't remember anymore? . . .
     Of course not, 9/11 was a girl. Do I look like a girl?
      . . . I don't know, I don't know what anything looks
like anymore. . .