Tentative Title: My speech to you

The speaker crutches gimpily up the 4 flights of stairs at the Waverly Restaurant, leading the audience to a roof above Greenwich Village. She waits at the door for a kind sir to open the latch at the top and escort her onto the tar. It is a sunny Sunday afternoon in the springtime and there is a light breeze to cool the speaker off before she goes on stage. She leads the audience to the opposite side of the roof overlooking The Avenue of Americas and instructs them to stand 10 feet away from her podium, the "Timbuktuian beam." She mounts the beam with the help of her Christmas colored crutches covered in sarongs from Hawaii and Brazil and let's them fall aside standing only on her left leg. She holds the following script in front of her face and begins her speech, balancing with the strength of Roman columns. 


Welcome to the top of the Waverly Restaurant on this beautiful spring day, kind sir! I must let it be known: you are not alone. Beyond the walls of this rooftop, millions of New York folk are wandering the streets listening to my speech. It is a confession, or perhaps a profession. But most importantly, I am making this speech to you, and to all of New York, to announce the dearest and deepest feelings in my tender loving heart. When such grand things are spoken aloud it is often accompanied by feelings of fear and anxiety, but this is not nearly the case today. Always, when I stand in front of hundreds, thousands, or millions of people as I do today on this roof, I find myself shaken up-- my smile nervous and my hands shaky-- but I must make it clear that in front of you I feel fearless and on top of the world. Therefore, when you see me today standing on this Timbuktuian beam, see me as if I stand on top of the world; and as you watch me balance on one foot and read aloud to you this profession, know that I stand with a strength and fearlessness that you have given to me... and I carry these qualities with me into the harsh world knowing that the gifts that you give to me are priceless and eternal, and I will forever be grateful for them.

I must move on to the heart of the matter, the reason for this speech today. I was thinking about where I should deliver this speech to you-- for laying down upon my loft bed would be inadequate, and the echoes of your room would only allow Dylan to hear my profession and perhaps the West 160th street hoodlums and even still they would be too small an audience-- and I thought no further than of this roof: The place we saw our first full moon, or as far as I can say my first full moon, for the world began that night, I believe. With your arms wrapped around me looking at the city illuminated by la bella luna, our rose whimpered and sacrificed herself for us and our love.

I want to say something profound, something deep. I look into your eyes and I feel something that I cannot describe or put words to. I feel your touch and I continuously think, "I love this man, I love this man" and all I can think to say is that I love you in these moments. Many of these moments go by, where I want to put into words what you do to me, how I feel for you, why you mean so much to me. And these moments pass, and I stay quiet sometimes, looking into your eyes. It is love; love that has never meant so much to me, a love that I have never known before you.