A young man writes a poem, “The Americans,” so beautiful that the walls of his room rise into the sky and explode, covering New York in wood and plaster rain. For three young men vaguely nervous about what their lives are becoming, it is, at least, something different.

Taking us into the confidences of unblinkingly honest strangers on an unparalleled day, Matthew Freeman’s play is an exploration of the human response to the unexpected and inexplicable. The Americans is poetic, haunting, resonant, and familiar.