Every 6 O'clock
Dear Eugene,
Smoke in the morning
Out of the same window
Every 6 o'clock
I saw it not by sight
Someone must be waiting for life to happen...
And before that
A cigarette is good enough
Who would smoke 6 o'clock in the morning?
Maybe there is one
Maybe there are many
Government sanctioned a decree:
Let things be
For good or for bad
For recreation or re-creation
Let My People Go
Up in smoke
Good smoke, bad smoke
Let the numbers speak
Desecration of sacred we don't say
Distraction of smoke we study
Tell me, oh, learned men and women
What is good enough for a slave like me
6 o'clock in the morning
Every first moment
Of my brilliant nothing
Yours, Alex
Dear Eugene,
ReplyDelete“Good smoke, bad smoke… desecration of sacred we don’t say.”
Every 6 O’clock, Brilliant Nothing, Now, Here: my sunrise routine for work over the past 6 years. On a typical morning, I saw no smoke and ignored the sun.
Atypical was yesterday. At the onset of my work morning, I answered to an unhappy family phone call that left me with no answers. Like smoke, my thoughts of reason dissipated. Bad smoke settled in, fury brewing. I wanted a cigarette but it would be forbidden in this smoke-free campus. Distraction I needed.
In a spurious moment “to pursue life, happiness & liberty” from Philip Yancey’s Grace Notes, I did what I have not done for a very long time: indulge in the distraction of food. In the cafe, smoke arising from the grill station looked romantically seductive. The aroma & warmth of steak, spices & soup validated their sacred displays of love to be consumed. At the queue, I pursued 2 big plates of food plus a bowl of more food dressed in the most brilliant couture of cream & cheese. Within a 15-minute escapade in mania, I finished them all.
But still dissatisfied, I craved for more happiness, for more consumption. About an hour later, I returned to the cafe for the yearning of a foot-long chocolate bar which would not intimidate me. Every edible speck of it vanished within 5 minutes, its glossy wrapper & promise of comfort trashed. My tummy bloated with guilt that was soon dismissed by night when I had an additional 2 bowls of food plus red wine.
By then, any smoke or brilliance nothing would have likely sustained its illusions had it not been for the “re-creation” of generous empathy from a friend’s e-mail like an echo from above. She wrote to me: I know things can be tough...
Then my kid asked me, “Where have you been...?
Sometimes, we see brilliance through smoke & distraction, “not by sight”.
Yours, Kate