I crossed over to Broadway and walked north to Twenty-fifth Street to the Serbian Orthadox Cathedral dedicated to Saint Seva, the patron saint of the Serbs, I stopped, as I had many times before, to visit the bust of Nikola Tesla, the patron saint of alternating current, placed outside the church like a lone sentinel. I stood as a Con Edison truck parked within eyeshot. No respect, I thought.
-And you think you have problems, he said to me.
-Oh, I'm just having trouble writing. I move back and forth between lethargy and agitation,
-A pity. Perhaps you should step inside and light a candle to Saint Seva. He calms the sea for ships,
-yeah, maybe. I'm off balance, not sure what's wrong.
-You have misplaced joy, he said without hesitation. Without joy we are as dead,
-How do I find it again?
-Find those who have it and bathe in their perfection.
-Thank you, Mr. Tesla. Is there something I can do for you?
-Yes, he said, could you move a bit to the left? You're standing in my light.
-And you think you have problems, he said to me.
-Oh, I'm just having trouble writing. I move back and forth between lethargy and agitation,
-A pity. Perhaps you should step inside and light a candle to Saint Seva. He calms the sea for ships,
-yeah, maybe. I'm off balance, not sure what's wrong.
-You have misplaced joy, he said without hesitation. Without joy we are as dead,
-How do I find it again?
-Find those who have it and bathe in their perfection.
-Thank you, Mr. Tesla. Is there something I can do for you?
-Yes, he said, could you move a bit to the left? You're standing in my light.
( Patti Smith )
[ M Train ]
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