Life has changed undoubtedly. My wife and I were subtly sparring all Saturday long. I helped a friend grout his bedroom. She was with the baby nearly all day. This day could be added to every other day of the week. They have common divisors. We sought the salt of the sea for healing. Some got in her wounds. I told her what she had to be grateful for. I never unlaced my sneakers in the sand. Pink sun coated my wife as she smelled our son's scalp.
I just wanted to see her smile. I told her why she should. Seagulls cawed to about the same effect. As we walked the beach a bride in white posed nearby smiling hand in hand with a barefoot groom in the sand. Today was their special day. Today was any other day.
The photographer lined up the photo with the colorful soup of clouds and sun as a backdrop. We stood in their long shadows with gas station cheese crackers, soda, and a beer in a plastic bag. Our baby was kicking in his dream. My wife crunched a snack. I just wanted to be with her for miles.
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Cars
Do you think Henry Ford considered that our cars would become our churches? That people would worship on a highway above the steeples? Green and yellow tangrams of growing grass would become our pews? The reds of the 5 o'clock traffic jam can't be altered. New teen drivers sing to glass and grown men growl, gripping their circular reasoning. I read that a comedian once said that in your car anyone who drives slower than you is an idiot and anyone who drives faster than you is a maniac. Is this some kind of accident?
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