In a local, one man shouted to me,
‘There but for the grace of god, go I!’
and pointed at Andrew. Consider the phrase – ‘grace
of god’ – invoking art and truth, commitment:
how beauty and love express through
skill and difference, novelty. Statesmanlike, it seemed
important not to invade an African country
or blame the boss, or thump that man, or scream,
because good beer and band were flowing; bodies
hopping. Boy I was mad!! Grace holds hands, nods,
includes men, women, singing, stars,
and barmaids danced like angels pulling pints.
Andrew smiled and led the effervescent hugs and bops;
thanks to the grace of god.
In the East,
one green blade of grass
far beyond the horizon
catches morning light.
I tossed a coin.
It landed face-up saying ‘Do it!’,
continued spinning like the sun.
I guess it would have turned
around forever if I hadn’t
grabbed it, stopped it,
tossed again and clocked it in the sky.
It landed on ‘humility’,
flowed across the wooden
man-made table top
as if a glob of honey,
sweet. I gathered up the syrup and
I tossed a coin again.