A Moon Cult

The Lovely Carla and I walked down to South Ave. beach last night. We sat on the large rocks, and threw small rocks into the water, and watched them make a splash. It was around seven thirty and already nearly dark. A flock of geese, flying in formation, came in low, and joined a larger group floating like decoys in the dark-blue expanse. Airplanes, lights flashing, circled overhead. A motor boat slashed through the water on it's way home.

Unexpectedly, a big, fat, orange moon, peeked over the edge of the water. It rose up, moving with speed and purpose. An orange path of light extended from the moon directly to us, sitting on the rocks. We both had the same thought: "we could walk the moonbeams, a path of orange light, all the way to the moon." We both got up, walked towards the water. "He came dancing across the water..."

We turned back to the beach and noticed little groups of people huddled together, two here, three there, watching the moon making it's journey in the night sky. It looked like a ramshackle moon cult; I thought of Kubrick's Apes worshipping the black, mysterious, monolith in 2001. It's already 2005, the future is here. We know what the moon is, a large round rock, floating around the earth, a bigger, more verdant rock, astronauts have walked the moony surface...the "explanation," actually, explains nothing.