Solomon In All His Glory
So, what if everything you always thought to be true was suddenly wiped out, leaving you with only a sponge mop and empty kitchen? Jesus the tooth fairy the US Dollar and the unmentionable of all items accidentally left in the bottom of the hamper, hyphenated or not, bearing the same quotient of fear...
The fact is: if you thought no one would know the difference it would get to be a habit like anything you can get away with until pretty soon no one remembers except maybe that child dropped on a stranger’s doorstep or huddling in the alley after yet another bombing.
Is anyone listening?!
Let’s assume there’s only me and you here in this place now that is everywhere, and if that isn’t confounding enough, add the hungry baby screeching in Africa or your Aunt Lucy at the height of an orgasm with a three-legged night stand screeching her head off.
Most zits can be covered up with chewing gum and conversation or a little adjustment in the rearview mirror—even football scores lose energy for anything more than idle conversation.
It's like shooting craps to kill time before the next event is supposed to begin. Just when you think you've got every clock chiming in perfect unison—cuckoo!! Another dandelion pops up.
Haven't we learned yet if the Good Lord wanted perfect lawns and hair-dos, they’d’ve been born that way? So… back to the original premise before the pigeons nested on the ledge and left their droppings: did anyone stop to think?
It certainly doesn't take a naturalist to point out the political climate of too many commercials and not enough trust. At a certain point it happens so rapidly it's almost obvious.
For example: you said you'd like to order a perfect husband rare yet well done with no bones or gristle, and preferably from the northern part of the brain. This request emerging from the portrait on the west wall next to the bust of Mozart. How did you know?
Or was it an accident that you always wanted to dance because you realized it was someone else making her debut that would lead to lifetimes of longing trapped in your limbs like sap in a tree hit by lightning—perfect setup for awesome artwork, or depending on how you look at it, God's paralysis later on.
Like a stunted tree in winter: never good enough, so left for God to accept or cut down… who else could be so kind? Life becomes a shot-gun wedding of two parts of oneself starved to eat each other up in order to lie in each other's arms reminiscing about the career that never was… and all the rest is laundry and bills.
The problem seems to be occupational or habitually related to take-out sushi, as if we need the risk that comes with standing under the bridgeof deliberate disobedience. Milton knew that and so did his students for centuries thereafter. What good is all this brain scribble without a walk in the woods and babbling brooks?
Why is it that only naughtiness buys a ticket to the park of endless rides on our favorite merry-go-round? Once there was a silly little space that was considered sacred... it even had a name. That was long ago before valium video games and re-runs.
Maybe that's why it's time to open it up and let it all out, unbraiding all the ugliness into natural intentions yet still keeping their waves after being slept on. One time I thought it outrageous to let inconsistency mark up one's life like a bad dream or over-sized crayon, but that was before the alphabet became soup and the shareholders bought stocks in our neighborhood stores, forcing everyone to lock their patio doors.
Only the weak-hearted cooperated [so we thought]... because when
we needed ourselves we could easily be scanned. That way, we were always
available and could certainly feel ashamed without anyone ever thinking bad
thoughts or otherwise.
Lord help us if the floor would ever swallow us up or anyone should be forced to eat their own cow pies! In those days the neighbors cooperated. They always made sure they had enough socks to get lost in the dryer; even the lawn pitched in, relinquishing its clovers to vacant lots or love-me-nots more amenable.
But then what did we expect from a city that seemed to have nothing in mind beyond the usual sprawl that occurs whenever you spread your legs and let everyone in…
- From Jesus & The Tooth Fairy, by Carol Adler
©Carol Adler, 2012, All Worldwide Rights Reserved