Thank Kevin

My roommate dictated her message to Siri: “Thank Heaven you’re safe.” she said to a client in a low-lying area as Florida searches for the tub plug to let some of the water drain. Siri translated to: “Thank Kevin!”

Well, I was so happy to finally learn the name of God! After centuries of study & exploration, uncovering scrolls in the desert, digging through temple mounds. church basement files, of prayers racing upward begging, pleading…

Kevin.

Definitely not the name I would have thought to make an offering to. I would have thought something melodic, many-syllabled, maybe with lots of vowels a definitive consonant at the end, something to click the tongue on. (No offense to the Kevins of the world here, folks. Only talking about what’s in my head after all. And I will admit to some overcrowding there.)

I sent one up whilst speeding home yesterday, creating my own wake on Washington Street, surfing those of the other cars. I arrived home & sent up another one, but since I didn’t have the right name, God may not have heard me, yeh? I guess I never got the outgoing message: “Hi! This is Kevin. I’m not in right now but leave your offering & I’ll get right back to you. Ciao.” I’m sure I passed Noah on that ride, checking his GPS for a Cracker Barrel or a Waffle House where they served bacon with breakfast. I know I saw Moses, on the corner of 17th with his staff, waiting to part the waters to let a few cars through.

My friends are Fed-Exing oars & inflatable dinghies my way, texting me for the zip code. They say, “Stay safe!” but it’s not up to me. Kevin is on the job!

The frogs outside in our new Drain Lake are singing to High Kevin, having fun with all this, contemplating world takeover, singing hopping songs.

I dreamed of a blue cat with a tan kitten named ‘Clown’. I dreamed of joining my neighbors in song outside between the houses. This had to be divine messaging as my friends just say “Be dry!” — as if I have a choice when the 40′ wave rolls in from the coast driven by 100 mph winds. Which may not be of import since the east wall of the apartment is already so waterlogged, it’s seeping thru the carpet. Fortunately the kitchen is on the west side and I have lots of food in-house. The good stuff one gets for possible camp-outs, not quite beef jerky, but flatbread pizza galore since the toaster oven works.

Well, time to light a candle & om my way into Kevin’s good graces, to pray the water follows the ditch path & not puddles the parking lot. Time to say thank you for all the grace in my life. Time to look at photos of national parks with entry signs saying “11,640′ above sea level.” But then it might be something else I’d have to watch out for, like diving UFO’s, teen pilots playing chicken through the gorges.

Sufficient to the day the plaints thereof. Oh, and thank Kevin for that!