In which the chains rattle

Collaborative

In which the chains rattle

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Setup:

The audience member is asked to sit in a ball pit or bean bag chairs. Then they are asked to look at stars projected onto a ceiling. Sound: wind.

Content:

They cut down the goal posts with a chain saw.

They took out the walls on the sandbox but left the dirt behind.

They unscrewed the swing seats but left the chains.

For weeks after sand blew across the field, rattling chains with no good use.

They detatched the iron ducks, zebras and purple hippos from their stout spring bases,

Leaving coiled silos gaping their mouths to the heavens.

This used to be a place where children could play

and lovers could remember what it was like to be a child.

Now it’s like the badlands.

There is no life, no movement.

I still return though.

Sometimes I imagine that this old playground is like the la-brea-ya tar pits,

And all the slides and swings and see-saws sank into the earth.

Just like my childhood has sunk within me.

Over there they opened a mini-mart.

Not even a national chain.

That’s how you know a nieghborhood is rotten.

This wasteland of a park is surrounded by second rate crummy retail.

The kind with bars on the windows.