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Because you are flesh
Because You are Flesh
Because you are flesh you will never completely give into the spirit. You will drive your fancy car - one that was bought for you - through the neighborhood, past the billboards and strip malls, down the freeway to that building that houses your office.
You see the paintings on the wall, some of them made by people you know, others just stock photos that any street vendor can provide. Sayings which are supposed to provide inspiration like your thoughts become your words become your actions become your habits become your character become your destiny. You may give some of these a second glance, you may have committed a few to memory.
The days by the pool, out in the sun, with your body covered with oil and it will amuse you for a moment to think that some people want to become brown and those with dark skin sometimes wish they had a lighter shade. Between the parties you sometimes go to, and the concerts put on by the son of a friend, you gather salads at the shopping center, pick up cartons of bottled water and wash yourself in the tiled shower after getting up in the morning and before going to bed at night. Your treadmill is already on its third belt and you've only owned it a couple of years plus some months. You never tire of the television programs or the morning radio program which is your only companion when you awake and has been for the past 1600 days.
But so it is like this and you leave the planter empty for the doves which will come to roost in your backyard and sweep the sidewalk in front of your house to save water. The spirit of the law is so much better for you when you run the occasional red light or forget to see the stop signs when there is no other traffic.
Someone is always watching though is one of your favorite quotes sitting next to the poster of the Night Café which you tell your friends you purchased in Paris even though you have never really been. You are aware of this as when you slip your hand into the drawer to take home some company papers or when you sit alone next to the bureau, touching yourself to the Miles Davis Quartet or Chic Corea. Your days go on and that time you told that lie, which led to your neighbor's decision to leave the neighborhood, is forgotten.
You are of the flesh and occasionally enjoy that piece of chocolate and red wine of course and the dirty novel or that film which you would not let your children see and which you profess to others as sinful and degrading. But you are not a hypocrite you tell yourself, and sing on Sundays and make sure that check gets to who it needs to when your time of the month has arrived - to support the city charity.
Close your eyes now and rest. Forget about the traffic that surrounded your car this morning and the fire truck parked up around the corner and the pungent aroma of smoldering grass. Forget about the young worker who came to you for advice and help. Close your eyes and enjoy the cool sheets. The moon barely visible like the pornographer's light bulb which has been spent and discarded under the bureau next to the day bed with floral sheets.