When Ted told me he was God
I said, "Nuh, uh."
"Ted ... but I think you're an Angel"
"C'mon now ... that's how we all got into this mess in the first place."
I asked him, "If you're God, do you want me to get down on my knees and worship you?"
And he said, "HELL NO! ... but, I want to talk to you,
there's something I got to tell you."
His soft fuzzy beard covered almost everything
but those honest blue eyes that at that moment
felt so good to look into, almost innocently clear,
and he took my hands."It's gonna get bad here.
I'm worried about you. After the King trial,
it's gonna get bad, and then after that, worse... "
I go under and into a daydream, and in my vision:
White people that bought guns last week.
Black people, mostly kids, that had guns already,
The power of TV just making it worse like always,
so people subscribe to the paranoia,and buy the guns
and stay in the house, but considering the rate of
alcoholism, eventually the survivalist drunks in
urban camo venture outside, packed.
...they are so not afraid.
And the designers of fear have set up the two with
ammo and incentive; the black and the white are ready
awaiting orders, and it's down to the race war.
The front lines have formed in the Inner city of Tinsel Town,
the news is LIVE, brought to you by the fantasies of
anchormen, now the instigators.
I thought about my own family, my kids and those like them
whose skins shine of many different races in the blood line,
"Are beliefs carried within the genetic code?",
"...Are we one people?",
"Is this human race created equal regardless of melanin level?",
"Is blood a carrier of consciousness?
"Are morals stronger than media sensationalism?"
Ted, who is there already in that greater scope, says,
"That's not all, there is more Yvonne." He pauses, I wait.
Then Ted goes, "I'm pissed off. These dammed people have
destroyed my planet! It is no longer safe, but instead - diseased!"
"I AGAIN MUST DESTROY!!" said God. I mean Ted.
He continued, "I'm worried about your children. And all the children.
You should take them away and out of this place because it's not safe,
and I need them, you see, it's all up to them."
To the Old ones in the pool hall I was their granddaughter and
they'd ask if I had eaten, or had I found the missing keys,
how was my weekend Missy, and I too, loved them dearly.
Once time, a belligerent patron perched by my table as I practiced,
asking stupid questions and hovering while I made the usual
effort to balance concentration with annoyance,
when Old man Ted came to check on me saying,
"Yvonne your follow through is improving."
And rude boy snaps with, "Get the hell out of here
you shriveled up old wasted drunk! Is any one talking to you?"
He shouts, "No! No body is talking to you! Get away Old fool!"
and getting up from my aim, I thrust the butt of my cue into his chest
"You are rude and disrespectful Fatso.
Split. No one is talking to YOU."
And as the ignorant get when defensive,
the names he chose were, "... pool hall-dike-wanna be".
I told Ted I had a gig and had to split myself,
saying, "Come on down tonight, I'm playing music."
Never thought he would, but there was, lookin' like
a fish out of water, smiling while I sang.
And ... well maybe he is God. So - I asked,
genuinely concerned, "But where is there to go?"
I was thinking about Spain but he answered fast with,
"Mexico. Europe is gonna go. Go South America.
I will save all that land straight down", he says,
"straight down to Argentina.
"The people are strong in that,
they have not forgotten."
I listened, seeing the rain forest as Ted brushed hair from my face.
With a funny twinkle on blue smiling eyes,
he leaned forward and I was like a child looking up at him.
He whispers, "And, I'm going to save the Philippines.
I like it there. They are good people. They feed each other and
they really like to laugh. You remember little Yvonne, right?"
There, I saw my own father living in those rain soaked mountains
somewhere East of Manila. Ted's friendly gaze became sudden
metamorphosis and my insides began to turn inward.
My ethereal soul began to seep upward and out in
blue grey smoke to settle on my shirtsleeves. I sipped my gin martini,
and considered packing my guitar that was still on the small stage.
I saw the rude pig in the pool hall and reflected that
these old men are the Fathers' Fathers,
just like the Ancients who were here before us,
all warriors, but old now. These valiant aged saints,
they try to tell you everything they know
as if it is their assignment, diligent in stories, impressive with
perfect recall without stopping to forget or remember.
So - life can continue without growth of the mind,
like the brutal ignorant, those heartless men who love to joy in hatred.
In time, they too will become old and drunk with ramblings unheard,
saved exclusively for the generation next just like them to come of age
to ridicule them with daggers thrown in harsh disrespectful words like,
"Hey nobody's talking to you , you old this or you old that."
I ask myself, "How are they convinced that old anything is not beautiful?"
I'm not sure if Ted really was God.
But when he got into that green taxi in front of Ghengis Cohen,
I thought, "Wow... that would be cool if Ted really was The Almighty,
not just because I thought it was a special visit and the world's children
were now my responsibility, but also because God is the absolute oldest!
And if Ted isn't God, I like that he thinks he is,
take no shit