[Twilight. A suburban strip mall, mostly cinder block, a Korean Barbeque joint, out of business, and for good reason. A closed laundromat, dark and dusty store fronts, one bus bench, one street light with speakers set half-way up, the sound of a passing bus about every 15 minutes. Vladie sleeps on the bench. Estro paces back and forth across the set, removes and wipes his glasses with the corner of his shirt-tail. Now he is adjusting his hat, green with a broad gold band. It's a party hat, a lucky hat, probably made of cardboard.]

Maybe Godot lost his keys.
Sometimes they're right where he left them.
So Estro and Vladie sit and
they wait
inside the silence.
Or they're assaulted
by Idiot Radio,
dawn to dusk,
deafening as a jackhammer.

“Can't they keep that down?”
says Estro
to no one in particular,
“Vladie's trying to nap.”
They take turns sleeping now
and this is his time.

So it's Estro's time to think.
He thinks,
how long is too long?
When Godot doesn't show,
how long do we sit?
Till the sun goes down,
comes up,
goes down again?
We don't really belong here.
Maybe we don't belong anyplace
until we're underground.

Estro recalls something about a promise.
He just can't remember the details.
And this rock they ride
makes its journey
around the block
again.

When Vladie awakes
he says, “truth has its place
but it's no substitute
for the real thing.”
His feet are in
two different worlds.
“What are we waiting for again?”
He doesn't know his dreams
from the real world.

Now Estro sleeps
with his hat on his chest.
That's when he
sees things as they are.
He dreams of missed connections,
schedules changed without notice.
Running late for a meeting
that was cancelled.
It happens all the time.

You know, I've never met this Godot guy
but I've read his rap sheet;
he's a fucking hero.
There was a time
you couldn't even get an interview.
He was that big.
It's different now.
He's come down to earth.
He's the first to tell you,
all that fame,
just a corporate ploy.
He's one of us now.

Dogs begin to howl.
It's just Vladie's ring-tone.
“Oh good, finally.
Where the hell are you?”

Estro sits up,
adjusts his hat,
ready for the day.

[Stage whisper]: “It's Godot.

Gridlock on the Major Deegen.
He's on his way.
Just hang on.
Anytime now.”