It is one of those faceless small neighborhood churches. I had never noticed the window before. On Tuesdays when I walk to yoga class there are often people standing in front of the little church, (white concrete; fronted by a groin high metal fence-let), smoking cigarettes. It was Lee who identified them as AA goers. I had not thought about it, but it made sense then. I can imagine them in the basement meeting room: metal folding chairs on sturdy carpeting, styrofoam cups of coffee.
This story, however, has nothing to do with the AA'ers. I am here instead, simply to describe a window. The picture: it is Saturday night. I am walking home from a boring party. (Actually I'm walking home from the burrito joint we went to after the boring party.) Daren and Jon are with me. It is a damp-cold San Francisco night and I am traveling quickly to get back to the relative warm of the apartment. I must sing Happy Birthday to my kitty, having just remembered at the party that she is a dear 2 years old today. I am walking down Waller and am just about to cross Delmar when I look to my left and for the first time am aware of a Rose window in the little church across the street. There is an electric light behind the window. I stop and turn my head so this light lines up with the yellow round of glass at the center of the "rose." It is pretty in a mild way; compared to the high class wedding-cake Victorians across the street. The part of my brain that is comforted by balance -- the lining up of the lightbulb with the exact middle of the window -- is satisfied. I point out the window to Jon and Daren, thinking they will say "neat!" and we will go on home. But they see something more in the circle of colored squares. They stand staring in the street while, twice, cars try to turn pass them onto Delmar. I am sleepy and chilled. Home is around the corner. The window has revealed a spirit to my friends which I do not see. Can the spirit be seen again? My friends storiesare here.
And read on:
The Psychedilic Mirrorball