Noah Eli Gordon

 

 

Three Problems

 

The Problem

Someone tied to a parking meter the dog that barks every time a woman approaches to insert a quarter. This makes her the subject. It is a metaphor for the aristocracy of money. One performer plays both leash and dog. Another stands in for the meter. I play the woman. Someone appears offstage. It is often difficult to tell a king from a queen. The problem is no one plays the difficulty.

 

The Problem

Her latest biography is of the writer famous less for his novels than for the public admission that in order to clear his head before writing he maintains a daily practice of vigorous, erotic auto-asphyxiation. I admit this is a fiction. What form of the verb to be isn't? This is, in fact, the problem

 

The Problem

In the distance, a little dot; now, an outline, a tiny shape that as we zoom in takes on that of a ship, an ocean liner. And there, on deck, a couple lounging in the sun. She's written a book about him and he's written a book about her and between these books there's an oceanic expanse. In the distance, a little dot; now, an outline, a tiny shape that as we zoom in takes on that of the problem.