It's been said that there are often moments in our life where all our thought, all our energy is suddenly transmuted down the channel towards our soul. All the thickets of education pushed away, and drifting down and into ourselves we go...
On Broadway and 19th, SSE of Dodger Stadium.
Los Angeles. 2006.
A small Mexican Restaurant, hailed by my father and escalated to greatness. With a yellow and red patio, and a small kitchen, we were contextually misplaced--far too white.
We order, we wait. We take pictures, we feel like tourists. The small parking lot is splayed with farm-animal murals. Cows, chickens, pigs.
Carnitas Burrito.
The horse is fast. 17 to one.
In this dinginess, in this bum-sorrow of half-way poverty, I see it: my soul. Sifting down the cement LA River, I see myself, within myself... I see the empty beds: drought and sorrow. I see the small weeds, shooting through the walls, I see the movies filming with lights and smoke and tenacity just about the Ten Freeway.
Dingy, and dank, and the burrito is delicious.
Out of the gate, the trumpet is sounding the Charge.
I bite in and see all this for seconds, and it disappears--everything disappears into meat and beans and rice and rivers of dreams deferred and controlled and winding South through the city's organic landscape on trial for depravity.
So trivial, so lost!
Drifting down, drifting down, I am caught up in the current--going down Moses towards the bathing woman who will adopt and love me. A wife, a lover, a home, a finale.
Oh Caveat of Gambling against all those odds to see within!
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