\ tastes heavenly

when she gathers her things, piles into the vehicle with the rest of the weary travelers, takes her seat in the very back, i can tell she strains to keep from placing her palm on the glass. the driver moves too quickly, there is no reason to hurry, but still he slams the door, slaps the hood as he trots around the front, jumps into the seat and kicks gravel into the air. so had she mouthed any final thoughts, they would have been obscured by the dust, peppery and fine in the last air between us, and she is gone. i walk inside and think about crawling under the daybed, think about sleeping off the last few days until my ride arrives. i simply lie there, my eyes wide open, unable to focus. i think, because of how they need to pick up another, i might have time to walk to the crossroads, show myself again, and in this urgent new realization scrape my forehead against the bottom springs, lace up my boots and jump off the porch. skip on down the lane.

it is two miles, and i remember how once when i met my aunt, she had me kneel with her and pray for guidance, and said i should always pray, and looked so severe that the intensity of her faith frightened me into believing. and later i tried on my own, tried to remember the words she taught me, until it became nothing more than a list of the things i wanted, had never had, and realized i was just talking to myself.

i used to think it was bizarre to talk to god this way, but i suppose it's fine so long as he doesn't start talking back, because that would be flat out crazy. you can talk to him, or talk about him, you can believe in him, you can even see him in nature, or images of the saints and the virgin, even claim to feel his presence, but sound is our most wicked of senses, because if you listen to him, tell someone you heard his voice, you will be labeled a lunatic. so what i allow myself to hear along the road, instead, while i am running is the last thing she told me, and the sound of her breathing, and i don't need anyone to tell me how crazy i've become. i have seen it, first-hand, have wrapped my hands around it even.