 15 Apr 2006 @ 04:11, by John Ashbaugh
a church in Las Palomas, Mexico, from a city park across the street.
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Friday evening under a shade past the full moon; a church in Las Palomas, Mexico, from a city park across the street. Pigeon or Dove, a flock of them, flies from rooftop to rooftop in this neighborhood of adobe fourplexes. Boys and girls in those pre-teen years when playing games was what it was all about in the sandlot between the buildings through those twilight hours into dusk, explain everything that needs to be explained through Spanish, with which I have the vaguest familiarity. Concert of children’s games through the weathered slat wooden fence, organic in luster, flocks of children, flocks of pigeons, fading into dusk, emerging into dawn. There is an old Greek story about a time when Alexander, the great conqueror, visited an old man, or maybe not so old, at his humble home, and the conversation got to the place where the host asked his guest what it was that he really wanted, to which Alexander replied that he wished to take his armies to the far reaches of the known world and bring all of those peoples to their knees to his dominion, at which time he would retire to his garden to rest in peace. To which the elderly man replied, I am in my garden now.
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