tea with angels

for some time now, i've been writing letters to beauty
telling it that i see it around town, see it in people
see it in places, see it in things
and i just want to let it know that its not going unnoticed
that i appreciate it
that i'm grateful
that i want to see more
that i cant get enough.
for some time now, i've been writing letters to god
telling it that i see it everywhere, see it in people
see it places, see it in things
and i used to ask it a bunch of questions
about why things are they way they are
but i've come to figure
that it's better to to not know
better to let god be god and me be me
and just appreciate it for what it is.
for some time now i've been writing letters to love
letting it know that i see it milling about
traipsing around
sometimes i'll tell love that i see it trapped
trapped in people, places, things
how i see how bad it wants to get out
sometimes i tell love all about how i can't live without it
sometimes i call it air.
my new letters to god
letters to love
letters to beauty and letters to life-
they're all coming back.
return to sender.
so i called the post office to see whats the deal.
i mean for seven years now i've been writing the letters
dropping them in the big blue frog
comforted that they are reaching their destination.
not really expecting a reply
just comforted in the act itself.
the feel of the yellow stationery with the red lines
the smell of the ink rolling from the pen
peeling the rhododendron stamp from the stampbook
placing it delicately in the corner
dropping it the big blue frog
and pretending the frog says "ribbit thank you."
until now, i've kept my obsession err habit a secret from mere mortals.
it's been my ace in the hole
so no matter what the earthly situation is
in the back of my mind i can always smile at the notion
that i'm in communion with the big things
things like fate and destiny and time.
so when the alarm doesnt go off and i'm twenty minutes late for work
it's just, eh, oh well, i've got a letter to the universe traveling its course.
the nice lady at the post office tells me that with a five billion deficit for the year
the postal service can no longer process such letters.
and i know that maybe it was neurotic
maybe a little crazy
to send letters to god
i mean, maybe i've been off my rocker all along.
maybe i need to evolve.
maybe i could blog to god.
maybe i could tweet @god
but it just doesn't have the right feel.
i liked the idea of the mailman
in his short faded blue shorts
handing my letter to truth.
i liked the idea that i couldn't do it myself
the idea that i needed help
the idea that i don't have it all together
the idea that i don't have it all figured out
the idea that there is something bigger
more powerful
more transcendent
more complex than my mind can comprehend
but at the same time, it's within reach.
and now i'm lost.
no ace in the hole.
so when the kids shatter a porcelain owl over the heater,
without the solace of my letters to love in the back of my mind
i don't know how to not be
the screaming drunk redneck asshole that i'm terrified of becoming.
or when i run out of gas in the middle of the intersection
and cars keep just driving around
around and around and around
so i have to leave the van right in the middle of the intersection
run two blocks to the gas station
buy a gas can for $8.50,
without the tranquility of my letters to life in the back of my mind
i don't know how to not be
the cynical jaded ungrateful asshole that i'm terrified of becoming.
so i guess i'll just have to start talking to time.
having audible conversations with beauty.
shoot the breeze with nature.
have tea with angels.
coffee and cigarettes with god.