The Dust

Ever see one of those Aztec cheekbone sets coming at ya down the street? Two tan roof slopes at a subtle incline type of thing. A while ago, I stood before a mirror and set my type. "Ah yes." That moment of realization. I need a few to get from here to the next city. The next city was Tegucigalpa, at the intersection with the whitewashed church sitting cozily on the dusty yellow sand. As usual.

Two bikes slowed to the intersection rhythm. They stood and said something in their native tongue. Something along the lines of, "I thought you were gonna go." So then they each started at each other, and slowed again. One said, under its breath, "For God's sake I thought you were going to go." The other one said, under its breath, "Jesus, I thought he was going to go." This kept on for a while, in front of the white church at the intersection of two dusty gravel roads in the yellow desert. Surely God was present, who else was driving?
If God tilted this scene on its side, as if it were the background under a glass cutting board in God's kitchen, and all the stones on the gravel path rolled out onto God's kitchen floor - THEN, I'd believe in God. Holy Moholy. If God picked up one of the bikes and twirled it around in a dusty wind funnel that was actually the water drain in God's kitchen drain - THEN...you know. Joan. Joan.

All the little rocky gravel chunks rushed down the serpentine staircase and crashed in a most inconvenient manner for the earthball, and by that I mean the volume on Earth was turned up by a few thousand centibels. It was like when you get your ears back after a cold a thousand times magnified. And he stood there, Napoleon, standing all Vitruvian in between the Legend's legs (he was also standing Virtuvian - only there was fire coming out of his mouth and he looked glorious). I've never been so proud, I've never been so spiritual.

And then a drone came - it was God's amplification correction system, correcting the rolling stone's effects on the earthball. A few ballerinas slipped sideways off a bridge, off the "cutting board." Ted, a man, crashed his car. Two Aztec men looked up at the sky from their rooves (well, not their rooves). The drone had to continue for a while. Oh it was gross. It was a Dark age. It was not what I'd expect. Then the drone receded and these little fader tests slid up and down and the sky flickered as the drone came back in the background. The church shuttered. The floors creaked and the kickstands used all their might to prop the bikes up. They both said, at the same time, "let's get out of here man."

All this at the same time it was too much for me to believe. I've been fed dogma before.