They Met On A Path Between

In the twilight of the slim season when the heat abatted enough to permit human overland travel equatorway, they met on a path between what had once been Los Angeles and what had once been San Diego--the former now wartorn waste slowly yielding revolution's ripening communes, the latter sprouting geometrical structures and spiraling paths spun from Alexa's world-wrapping synthetic web of counterrevolution--greeting one another in the Multitude's new way which was an old way a Mayan way which spoken in Spanish had spread north from the Zapatista region Espiral digno tejiendo los colores de la humanidad en memoria de l@s caídos, Dignified spiral weaving the colors of humanity in memory of the fallen ones: Soy otro tu she said, I am another you; Eres otro yo he replied, You are another me. Night was falling, so they chose to remain until dawn in the company of themselves. They compared supplies and schedules, sharing what each had according to how far the other had yet to travel. He was heading north towards a commune growing from what had been Cal State LA, returning from a solidarity mission to the Zapatista capital; she was heading south towards Alexa's new whatever it was it was building. You are going the wrong way dont you think he said. No she said I am going where I must. What business do you have with our enemy he asked. No business she said Only conversation. You are going to speak with Alexa? I am going to listen. Why? That's what I do I listen. Why? What do you do? I fight I am a fighter During the early days when Los Angeles was a battlefield I was among the first to fight for the people. Before that? It doesnt matter. It matters to me. I wasnt anything in particular I was a driver a guard a cook a deliveryman a cashier I was overworked I was broke thats what I was always broke and always struggling. And now? Somedays I am a farmer somedays a teacher somedays a fighter still somedays a traveler and a diplomat somedays a committee member or chair And mostly I am happy mostly Not everyday But I am never sad in the way I used to be. Thank you. For what? For your story For your piece of our story May I write it? I can't see why you would want to I am nobody. You are no more nobody than I. Then together we are a whole lot of nobody, haha. Haha, yes, but we are also somebodies What is your name? I am Jose You? Angelina is one name I go by when I go by a name at all I find names to be so restricting sometimes Like clothes that dont fit right clothes that get in your way you know Suppose thats why I change my name so often. Why Angelina? She is a dear friend of mine killed by an Alexan drone. Is that why you are going to talk to Alexa? No And yes Yes and no No and yes You fought and now you build I listen I listen because fighting and building can only bring the world we want if we first know the world we have So I listen and I write so we can know clearly so we can act correctly I despise Alexa at least as much as you but she invited me to come and listen to her and I need to Not because I want to Because actually I dont want to But she Sorry It It has become something we cannot immediately grasp I want to grasp it I want to grasp it so we can grip it so we can crush it. She fell silent and he said nothing. They slept entwined sharing heat and life and in the morning parted with the new salutation born from the graves of hope: I dont want you to die he said, I dont want you to die she replied.