A catholic city

All these churches encourage parishoners to stand up to sin.

Head out of Mass into wind.

Bundled in redempion.

Haiku

Altar behind Ferry Building
Burns offerings to gods.
Smoke rising into fog.

Wedding in the garden

They couldn’t wait to get married. To let everybody know
We’re going to marry. Under the sun’s warm glow.

The invitation had caligraphy. A drawing of a garden
Love and peace to everyone. May this never be forgotten.

Celebrate with us. Bask in our love.
Following is the reception. Under the sky above.

Enclosed was a letter Some things aren’t meant to be.
We feel sad for those not as lucky as we.

See you at the wedding. Can’t wait to give you a hug.
It seems we’ve finally learned how to love.

The day in the garden they greeted guests with a rose.
Held it to our chest. Pinned it to our clothes.

They looked at us and smiled We make such a fuss.
We’re delighted you came to wish us luck.

We love to talk. That’s why this day is outside.
After let’s chat. Lie back. Gaze at the sky.

Upon the speaking of the vows silence came to the day
Please. Receive what we say.

Widening their arms. A glow filled their face.
Come. Promise us your embrace.

Each cannot do it alone. That is why we vowed ourself.
With this committment we want to be able to ask for help.

We in turn, promise ourself to you.
When you feel you need us. Even when it’s hard to care.

Wrap your arms around each other. Say I’ll love you till we die.
If it’s not true. Say you’ll try.

Release one another, gently as you look to the sky.
How does one express what’s happening inside?

Look to each other, gently as you shift with the clouds.
Come together. Put your arms around.

Gaze back to the clouds. See how long it takes to smile.
The sky is where to look for help to keep a vow.

Stay out as long as you need. Get your second wind.
If anyone complains say you need time to love again.

Look up with us. We’re so excited to be alive.
Our hearts burst with promise, beneath the blue and cloudy sky.

No eye contact

Freedom has always been the most important ideal to me. I lusted to be free when I was young. I loved the wide-open spaces. I loved the anonymity of cities. I loved the freedom of movement in America. I loved America.

Now I feel unfree. I do not feel anonymous. I am not anonymous. I am not free to wander. There are cameras and microphones everywhere. Most people fear strangers. I am looked upon suspiciously. I no longer love America.

There was an article in the New York Times about Muslim women who had emigrated to Europe or Great Britain. One of the women said, ”Every time I visit Morocco, I feel and see more freedom than here in the West.”

I do not know Europe, so I will substitute America for the West.

Maybe in Morocco there is not a security guard outside every office building, or security cameras in every building. I would be surprised if there isn’t. Maybe in Morocco everyone does not need a badge to get into work, but I am sure that they do. A lot of people, especially women, like having security badges, security personnel and surveillance cameras. It makes them feel safe.

Do Moroccans have to get fingerprinted and go through a background check before being hired? Do they have to do those things even if they do volunteer work?

Are Moroccans told “Our neighbors are watching you.”? Are there public sevice messages saying to report suspicious looking people to the police – we have to protect the children? Oh yes the children.

Do Moroccans fear being accused of child abuse for spanking their brat? If a man smiles at a child or talks to a child in Morocco, does he worry about being called a pervert?

Does everybody in Morocco feel that they are being fucked, that they have the right to sue somebody because they tripped over the bicycle of that person’s child?

Outside apartment houses in Morroco, are there boxes with a key to the building so the police can enter – to keep Moroccans safe? Are there motion detectors everywhere in Morocco? Are Moroccans scared shitless of everyone and everything? Do they fear night time? Are they people just like us?

I hope not.

Can you pee in Morocco without having to buy something? Do Moroccan cities have benches, drinking fountains, picnic tables with umbrellas?

The woman is right. We are not free in America. We refuse to admit it. You cannot have a beer and a cigarette in a park, but the troops are fighting for our freedom.

I will rewrite the woman’s quote:

Every time I go outside,
I feel less free and see less freedom.