Bon Voyage to Joey and Maria

Joey was really in love with Maria, so it didn't matter so much to him that she was carrying someone else's baby. He intended to marry her anyway and raise the child as his own. Blinded by love, he was ready to do anything to protect her. Her face was always in his mind, in his dreams. Whenever they were together, he felt himself to be a true man. Whenever they were apart, he felt himself even more, a man. That meant something--something very precious, very strong, and very. . . ancient, as if they had been together since the dawn of time. In spite of all the trouble and displacement of their immediate circumstances, he felt more a man now than ever before in his life.

What is a man anyway? Someone who takes responsibilities for his own action.

But to take responsibility for someone else's carelessness? That's crazy, especially if it requires a lifelong commitment to some other man's kid.

It wasn't like he could explain why he was willing to do anything for her. She had told him the whole terrible truth about what had happened--how she had gotten pregnant unexpectedly after making some poor choices. He had known her far longer than the guy who had inflicted this condition on her.

But it was more than a condition that had taken hold of Maria. It was a child.

Nothing about that loser mattered now anyway. It was all water under the bridge.

They had left Izmir two days ago. Now, Joey and Maria were stepping onto an overcrowded boat to depart Lesbos. Two sketchy-looking characters were up on the deck, acting like they owned the place, rudely waving their herd of misfits through while checking each one's ticket to make sure they had paid. No freeloaders. The two goons had already turned several off the boat, provoking loud protests from those rejected travelers--protests that were shouted loudly to no avail.

Joey felt secure in one thing; he had paid dearly for their two tickets. It had cost him more than half of everything he had managed to bring with them.

As the goon waved him and Maria through, he felt great relief.

He looked at Maria's face. She was still smiling. It had been days since he had seen her smile. Suddenly, everything was worth the trouble and the pain of whatever the hell they were getting into now, whatever new phase. As they stumbled, then walked, around the stern, and to the other side of the boat. There was an open space at the side. He gently placed his had on her back, just above her perfect derriere, and urged her with a tender guidance to rest for a moment at the railing. This was, after all, a very special moment--one they had talked about for weeks. Now they were here at last, on the boat, bound for Athens.

He looked out seaward, across the bright-on-dark horizon, at the deep blue sea. Soon they would be skimming o'er the waves. Some time tomorrow, they would arrive in Athens and find the place that Gabe had told him about. If they could get there, surely their troubles would be over, at least for awhile.

After surveying that long-expected horizon for a few moments, he looked again at Maria's face. The smile had morphed into what seemed a painful expression. But there was still a smile, somehow, beneath the pain. That's what he loved about her. Now he couldn't resist the urge, and there was no need to anyway. He bent down and laid a a long, wet kiss on her lips; she responded in a way that made him long for a place of their own. But this intimacy could only go on for so long here in this place, on this boat amongst all these straggly people, and then. . .

Then he looked out to the Aegean again, and his mind began to, in spite of itself, jump to the next phase--whatever that might be. He was hoping there would be room for them at the inn.



Smoke

The Smile

What was God up to

when he came up with this smile thing?

--when it was implanted

within the potentiality of any man, any woman,

any child, or in each and every oldster--

this capacity to instantly broadcast

Joy!

and then project that joy across space,

and time,

sowing contentment like seed corn

into the swirly-world fields of people and places.

Here comes one now-- an unexpected smile that

lands suddenly upon my stony day.



What in heaven's name was Creator intending,

by positioning at the corners of any living human mouth,

or in just any wagging bouche or yapping trap,

this little trickle,

this glistening trace element

of radiant happytude; it shines

through the air, and boldly accross errant cares,

leaping out at us like it owns the place.

What a forcefield of fulfillment,

this silent manifestation of mirthy music!

How could such insignificant little corners of a person's

upturned lips,

dancing with the wrinkly corners of their bright eyes

ever so gracefully--

how could this facial arrangement display

such uninhibited sparkle

such irrefutable iris gleams?

How could this smile leap forth so freely

to disable nearby gloom

and decimate delinquent dismay?

So unashamedly is this random joy

flung at us passersby,

as if to smother with contentment our alienation, outperforming our angst,

destroying our dread,

trumping our worry, like some ace of hearts hidden beneath love's sleeve.



See the waitress over there

hispanic looking gal--

she doesn't even need to

do the lips maneuver,

doesn't even need to turn on a residual sparkle.

Her countenance, by some indeterminate power,

radiates well-being

before the mouth even catches up.

How does she do that?

Wonder what God was up to, enacting

this sublime power of the smile.

Look! There it flashes again.


Glass half-Full