“If God hadn’t rested on Sunday, He would have had time to finish the world.” -Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Thank you for showing me
that even if angels did plummet to Earth,
we would probably treat them
as we treat all strangers. Thank you
for your humor and your
observations on the banality of life,
which is our own fault. We may
in fact be in the company of angels,
but we would not notice.
We take the magic of this world for granted,
just as we would take real magic for granted.
I can listen to music from a tiny, shining box
through two buds connected by a smooth, white rope,
and I take it for granted. I can travel
to your country and visit you
by hopping on a winged ship
with a thousand travelers,
and I take it for granted. I can write
a letter to you on a humming typewriter
powered by manufactured lightning
extracted from three holes in the wall
through plastic and metal plumbing,
then send that letter through space and time
to an ethereal cloud encompassing the planet,
with the possibility of you reading it.
As a writer, you made beautiful
that which was ugly
and ugly that which was beautiful,
and you exposed
the underestimated incompleteness
of the world. For that, I am grateful.