A Ramble

My journey has not turned out the way I thought it would. So far it’s been better. I’m here in Chicago, pushing through five glasses of Glenlivet, listening to Leonard Cohen, thinking on my flight tomorrow to Seattle. The room spins; the screen splits; all I can do is maintain as I try to pack my clothes. Tomorrow I fly first class; tonight I spin about a room in downtown Chicago, a cliche if there ever was one. My poems are stacked neatly on the other side of the desk, and Petrarch joins me in my flight from success and all that goes with it.

I’ve won a few awards, made a lot of money – and a lot of mistakes, to be true. Here I sit, spending more on scotch than most households can afford for bread, and this time next week I’ll be speeding down the coast of California, and yet, and yet my friends, I’m in trouble, trouble of my own making don’t you know. I can’t be a pure anything – pure Christian, pure Catholic, pure Salesman, pure Poet – pure Nothing, that I grasp.

So here I am, in downtown Chicago, the room weaving around me, listening to Leonard Cohen, wishing I could get a bottle of scotch, but of course the bar is closed.

It’s always closing time my friends.

Jesus is coming, make no mistake dear readers, and our greed, fear, wrong-headed foolishness will occupy his time. Between now and then…well, let that be a surprise.

Tomorrow at this time, God willing, I will be in Seattle, a city I’ve never seen. I’ll be on the other side of the continent. My wife will be thousands of miles from me – I think of her all the time. She’s beautiful, and patient, and true – she should hear that more often from me.

With that, I leave you my friends, wherever you are, whoever you are, whatever you are.

Please enjoy this song from St Leonard. Love to you all…

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