A girl mistook me for god the yesterday. She prayed, followed, knelt and asked for my forgiveness. To this I calmly took the last drag of my cigarette, flicked the butt, and informed her of the case of mistaken identity. She would not hear of it. She kept begging for forgiveness of her sins and was now confessing them unto me.
The initial annoyance I had was now giving way to intrigue. I decided to ask her how I could be something in which I held no belief. The response I received was unexpected and nearly caused me to fall over. She looked up, eyes wide and sincere, and asked me how many people I know who believe in themselves. I had no answer because, quite honestly, I don't know anyone who does. Sensitive to my shock she arose, kissed my hand saying, "Thank you, Lord", and hugged me. With that she disappeared into the onlookers that had gathered to watch the show.
Her departure must have signaled the end of the performance because the rather large group of spectators began applauding rather wildly. Some of them even began to place change and dollar bills in the now empty cup that I had forgotten I was holding. They were all oblivious to the fact that the it wasn't a show but a significant occurrence in my short life.
Still in shock I walked into the corner market and used the few dollars I had collected for a pack of Marlboros and a new cup of coffee. As I was walking out the clerk told me nice performance. I quickly shot back a thank you and ran toward the exit as he yelled something I couldn't quite make out behind me.
I decided to take refuge on a bench in the park. I lit up a cigarette and began reading my copy of Dharma Bums but I quickly found myself more focused on the day's events than the text that lay in front of me. I put the book away and glancing at my watch I noticed it was almost 3 o'clock. It was time for my weekly chess match with Joe Campbell, a Central Park resident. We had been playing every weekend for roughly a year. He had approached me when he noticed I was reading Naked Lunch by Burroughs. We struck up a conversation about Beat generation writers as well as a friendship.
By the time I had reached our table he was waiting with the board already set. I apologized for my tardiness and handed him a stack of books for him to borrow as I did every week. As he inspected the titles I began the match with my first move. I couldn't concentrate on the game as it progressed. My mind kept shifting back to that girl. I couldn't figure out why she would chose me of all people as her deity. I even started to think that maybe she was right. Maybe I was god. Not like a great an all powerful being to be worshiped by some religion but more like a god of myself. I control my own destiny.
Joe noticed my lack of attentiveness, mostly due to the fact that he had just claimed a rare victory. He inquired what it was that I was so intently thinking about. I explained to him the occurences of my day. He simply passed her off as an insane street urchin, claiming the warm spring weather brought them out of the woodworks.
As we were discussing my situation we walked over to a street vendor to buy some lunch. I reached into my pocket to pay for the two of us and started to laugh. I had just noticed that my wallet was missing.