Another Morning Beach Walk Story

Early morning tourist
Season San Diego I
Sneak out carrying my
Backpack
Park in the dirty part
Of Pacific Beach that
Wakes up every morning
In summer reeking of beer
I am alert listening deeply

A new homeless woman
Sits on the cement spreading
Out all her treasure, her breasts
Splayed like a part of her midriff
Her graying hair tied in a knot
On top of her head like Pebbles in
The Flintstones, only more crazy

I walk among the growing crowds
Heading toward a part of the beach
I seldom walk anymore observing
On my way back, I pass
A young and innocent looking black kid
He looks very worried for a tourist
Next a little ways back, a large white guy, short hair
Ball cap a little askew but kind of military but not
He is alone and talking maybe into a phone
And then I see he has none
Something comes alert in me and I see
He is stalking the black kid and is the right age to be
A vet from one of our recent crazy making wars.
I listen to the love and truth written inside me
And turn and follow them. I pray as a way of seeing
I see the big white guy, divine in his being
the young scared kid, God’s own look-a-like
I follow calling down the pervasive lie
So often believed so void of Truth, that one of us is
Wrong is not One. I look away to the water for a second
When I turn back, my white guy is walking up a side street.
I panic because I don’t see the black kid. I search and hasten
My steps so I can follow and then I see him, taking off his shoes
Sitting on the wall surrounded by people and the
Guy following him has turned at that very point and gone away.
I am smiling now, aware of the power built into each of us to become who we really are.

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