My plan, Hafiz,
is to start a movement.
A beautiful groundswell.
It will involve festivals, of course,
local chapters, iconic images, bylaws,
speeches that change everything
and people who don’t bathe
mixing happily with those who do.
Food stands. Woven hats.
And yes, a cool logo.
It will have green in it for sure.
The thing is that it must
everywhere that people are.
And some places they’re not, too.
How great would it be to land on Mars one day
and step out of the capsule
and pick up a rock
and find yourself face to face
with the logo.
That type of thing.
The thing is that it must
Otherwise what is the good of it.
We’re so divided here, Hafiz.
We’re languishing for godsakes.
We’re wallowing here.
We’re mired down.
You see it, don’t you?
When we lift a foot to move forward
the boot stays behind in the mud
and we dangle like a photogenic stork
over an abyss of all holy hell,
and then what.
We just hang there. Wobbly in the wind.
Trying to find that boot.
It’s quite troubling.
People can’t see the truth.
But if we had a half decent movement, you know?
The movement will carry the message everywhere.
Everyone will have a chance to see it.
It will have a logo.
It will change everything.
Hafiz was watching clouds go by.
I tried to join him, but
they were taking their sweet time
and the sky was wide as you dared
and I was antsy to get the show on the road.
Creation is my movement, he said,
giving me a firm pat on the shoulder.
He wanted me to know he loved me
even if he didn’t give two crossed eyes
about finding my sticker on a rock on Mars.
Silence is my uniform, he said.
Smiles are my logo.
Little too abstract, isn’t it, Hafiz?
(Pretty sure I grimaced at that moment.)
Not a lot to grab hold of there, big guy.
I gestured facetiously at the sky
suggesting the cloudwork we were watching
like a couple of off-duty bloodhounds
keeping a close eye on some fence posts
was a little too ambiguous.
You have to remember who we’re dealing with, I said.
These people have wicks about as long as atomic firecrackers.
Who’s gonna’ understand that!?
I started wondering how many degrees of arc
I could see with my peripheral vision.
No one, he said quietly,
if you don’t.
My breath ran off to build a sand castle
and my mind fired off an entire clip of blanks.
Total shock and panic in there.
Coming out of hyperspace into an asteroid field.
There’s only one of us, he replied.
I saw three of him then,
but I focused on the one in the middle.
What are you saying, Hafiz?
He shrugged his shoulders.
Then a stork flew by
dragging a banner behind it
of perfect silence,
and it just went on
I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
The bylaws were scrolling right past me.
The singularity was flashing the logo right at me
from everywhere at once.
You should think about starting a movement, I said.
You’d be really good.
Then I punched him in the shoulder.
The one in the middle.