The Last Time
The last time I saw a purple moon, we were laughing on the grass.
The last time you touched me, we had to wait hours to move in the world again.
The last time I cry, I want you to hold me, and absolve my tears
so we can be free.
A man with one bum leg who looks just like Jesus lies on his back under a palm tree. The sun comes and goes. When he needs to stand up his crutches, leaning against the tree, jump over to him, on either side, and lift him up. At first I thought the wind did it, because I heard fairies live in the wind, but we can’t usually see them. The fairies are there to help, not cause harm, and they’ve done things like get people out of car accidents and save them from predators, animal, human or otherwise. The man here really looks like Jesus, though he speaks with a European accent. I wonder how he got his bad leg. It’s interesting, how one of the most famous thing about Jesus is probably that he could walk on water, which means on anything, basically, and at first it seems like this guy wouldn’t be able to walk at all. But he can. He can walk, and do Tai Chi, and stretch every way possible, and with his crutches he can fly. Really. It’s not the fairies, because there’s no reason this guy needs to fly that I can think of, and fairies don’t squander time. But who knows? Did Jesus know why he was walking on water, and the answer might be yes, and I’m not yet in a position to understand. In any case, I just saw it. The man glided up and right over the Thai immigration building here in Vientiane, Laos, where he, like the rest of us, is trying to get permission to stay in Thailand for awhile. His crutches look just like wings. The spot on the grass where the crutches stood is glowing almost pink, for some reason. I stare at the spot and I think there’s a sizzling sound. No, not sizzling exactly, but something like tin and marshmallows put together. It’s making music that’s not music. The ants can hear it. They’re coming off of all the bodies lying on the grass, mine too, and moving pretty fast towards the glowing spot. They don’t enter, but stand in a circle around the spot like they’re waiting for something. Maybe they are. I wonder who watched Jesus walk on water. Suddenly the ants are in the air, a swarm of tiny black ants, moving up like a mini tornado. Lao Jesus doesn’t return. The glowing spot returns to normal and the ants come back to nibble on our bodies. The grass isn’t soft, I realize. It’s like hay. All I have to do to join Lao Jesus in the sky is touch the glowing spot. Somehow I know this. But I don’t do it. So for me the story is over as I get bitten by ants but something tells me Lao Jesus is over Myanmar by now, ready to land, sit, rest, and learn a new trick or two. Maybe he wills me there, and maybe I should have joined him.