Would Be Enough
Saturday. They are saying a million and a quarter people are sitting without food or water after one hundred thousand died in the cyclone that hit Burma last week. A “one in five hundred years” storm that came to land exactly where all the Mangrove forested swamps once stood protecting the people and the land before they cut them all down and turned them into shrimp farms. And I sit here and think (all of this going on inside my head, not a lot of heart injecting itself into the equation as near as I can tell) this is not good. Nasty bunch of generals running their government, they ought to be shot, what's for breakfast?
Still, sitting here, any Mangrove forests we may have had in Oakland still intact, there are five hundred year events waiting in line to strike the second floor plot where I live (earthquakes come to mind) where I could find myself looking up at the sky (the part that isn't blocked by the cement wall that came down on my right or the cement wall that came down on my left) thinking it would be nice to have a drink of water (please) if the water weren't so polluted by all the dead people and animals that weren't so lucky when the walls fell apart; it would be nice to have a drink of water (please) if someone would be so kind as to fly in from wherever they happened to be with a bottle in hand.
Which means?
Which means live my life today because it might be my last and maybe do more than I've been doing lately when I pass someone on the street who's looking for a buck or two for lunch. Or a drink of water in a place who's name I can't even pronounce.
And that's it?
That, if I meant it, would be enough.
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