the coffee is shuffling a geriatric pace through my blood and has spitefully neglected the region of my brain. the morning is a promise of cooler, normal weather- like a last meal before execution.
"here ya go. here's some comfort before the heat. drink your coffee while its still cold enough to enjoy it."
we walk like musical instruments across our second story college apartment, lovingly referred to as The Tree House. it must be like listening to a Balkan garbage can tuba band from the apartment beneath us.
and last night, when i dared to play guitar in the delicious gloaming of the warm night out on our shared porch, the neighbors opened their window to listen, saying when the noise bleeds through the walls they quiet down and eavesdrop.
and today, i am Abraham all over again. at least in his beginning sense. "here's for today, Abraham: go. dont try to understand or plan. just go and live." permission and command. command and permission.
It reminds me of driving across the salt flats when i was 14 and we were almost out of gas so we couldnt listen to the radio or feel conditioned air.
it reminds me of lying in bed when i was 18 years old the night before i left for bible college, wondering.
it is blank canvas, picking the colors in my mind...wishing You would pick them for me. my imagination is not a long distance runner.
van gogh eating yellow ochre oil paint at San-Remy. a childish wish to take the color into himself.
by this time next week, the long dark dream of chico will be over. i want to lay my head on a rock and live somewhere between esau and a withered hip socket- watching the ladder carry traffic from Him to me.
"surely the Lord is in this place and i knew it not."
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