Crossing Over

This morning,

the easterly light bounced off the dark cobblestone street,

as if it was mirror.

The stones are polished from the soles

of thousands and thousands of peregrinos.

I closed my wood shutters and made my way to the car.

I have not been in my car,

or even thought about driving since my arrival.

It was covered with dust and bird poop.

Spending a short week in the mountains

without driving,

without cell phones,

without television,

without newspapers,

does something very special to you.

You walk and you talk with those that you run into

on the square, in the coffee shops, or in the super mini.

The last two nights, I visited with my German pals.

It's very instructive to talk with sensitive artistic Germans

who were born right after their country suffered humiliating defeat

because of the policies of the Nationalist Socialist Party,

and the rise of fascism that occured in Europe.

One of the Germans made a point that stuck in my head.

He said that certainly the United States and its massive war machine

will probably win a military victory in the mideast,

but it will come at the expense of an economic defeat.

Those words stuck in my mind as

I waited my turn to take the 2 mile tunnel

to make my way down the mountain.

I drove through villages with donkeys pulling wagons with hay,

and old men riding bicycles.

I crossed over to the developed world by mid day.

Here we are talking feeding tubes,

because its a great political issue.

We are crossing over from news

to news decoys.

Reminds me of the scene in Cool Hand Luke.

Shakin that branch boss, shakin that branch.

Meanwhile, I keep thinking about the lessons

That the Germans had to learn.

And the whole earthfamily with them.




*