Holy Week

Thursday night try to sleep outside. The beach is dicey, so walk around looking for an alternative. A motel with patio furniture around a pool, for example. Drag a chaise lounge to an inconspicuous spot near the shrubs, and drift off till you are soaked by lawn sprinklers.

The next morning go looking for a place to stay. You don’t have enough money to rent an apartment, which requires some combination of first, last, and security (you don’t even have enough for first). So, rent a room by the night at the Tropicana. Rest up, shower, and go look for a job. Lucky day — the manager at Publix lets you audition as a bagger, then hires you to start tomorrow.

Walk down to the beach as Friday evening arrives. A full moon is rising over the ocean. It’s clearly a sign from God, but you’re too smart to believe in God, though you allow for the possibility that you’re not smart enough. Either way, you can’t deny you feel yourself resonating with the rest of the cosmos right now.

Easter moon rising:
consecrated bread over
water turned to wine.