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Heaven or HellThere you stand
saying 'take my hand
That here I'll stay
And ne'er shall say nay.'
In your loving arm
I know I will come to no harm.
They all say 'ne'er shall they blend.'
Our lover we will never bend.
Time will tell
Heaven or Hell. . .
. . .Me? I prefer Hell
Shhh. Don't tell. . .
The Missing Scene[The moon shined down, obscured every so often by the moving clouds. Tituba, Abigail, Ruth, Mercy and Betty stood in the moonlight]
Betty. Are you sure this will work?
Tituba. Hush me girl. O' Course it will. You four will need to dance, just like I taught ya.
Mercy. [giggling] Let's make this more fun. [She proceeds to strip of her clothing.]
Ruth. Mercy! This isn't a time for fooling around. This is serious!
Abigail. Oh, hush Ruth. Let her be. There's no one to be around anyhow.
Tituba. It's ready. One must drink for this to work. Must make wish on the charm.
Abigail. Do we really have to? It's so gross.
Tituba. Yes. Now one, drink.
Betty. I will.
Abigail. No! I have a special wish I want to make. [She snatched the spoon and dank all the blood]
Mercy. What was your wish?
Abigail. For Goody Proctor to die, of course. John Proctor can then be with me without worry of his good name. Now, let's dance.
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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