There had been a fire years ago
And the only company the house had was ghosts
I had gone in on a recovery mission
Hoping to find something among the ashes
There on a table, surrounded by debris and dust
A sketchbook of yours, pristine and untouched
Inside, I found a reflection
Myself, in sketches, memories, and photos
All the angles, all the colors, all the textures
Black and blonde and red hair
Dresses made of feathers and velvet and lace
Sunsets on the beach, parties in the kitchen
I saw my youth in all its vibrant glory
All my mistakes and rewards
I gazed at the proof of my former beauty and foolishness
Then searched for you so I could return it

Time Passing

My breathing slows of its own volition
To pace the sweeping melody of the strings
My lungs contract, expand, fill, release
As if to absorb every note flowing through the music
I am dizzy, I am spellbound, I am lost
Moved by such elegant beauty
To the point where seconds cease to pass
And I am invisible to the world
This moment of stilled storm
As my heart aches with joy
My eyes glaze and drift shut
My soul is quiet and at peace.

Mapping

I find what’s familiar and I follow the old routes
Mentally navigating past haunts and favorites
These geographic daydreams of mine
Help temper the bitter distance of miles and years
Making my way through varied neighborhoods
From Frenchman to Decatur to Canal
Winding along River Road to Clearview
Downtown to Uptown to Metairie to Kenner
I could spend hours driving through my hometown
Noting missed spots for future reference
Shying away from unnecessary landmarks and memories
Taking my time refreshing my internal maps
 

Entertaining after the fact

Sitting in a chair, feeling my spine twist
As he feels the muscles, tries to ease the pain
He freezes, fingers tense
Fearing he caused the crooked bones
We perch at the end of the hallway
Misshapen forms in leather, vinyl, velvet
I see a monster lurching toward me
Is it real? An illusion brought about by chemicals?
A giant with a stretched face
Fetish gear and whips
Only later do I find out
He was Chewbacca
Spending hours in a darkened room
Illustrating spirit animals while listening to harmonious violence
A lovely girl goes to use the bathroom
And doesn’t exit for hours
She is in the elevator to hell
We are the demons who tempt and torture her
She is Adam, she is Eve
She is the Beginning and the End
We careen through the Quarter
Alligator dragons
RBG monsters on bicycles
Melting faces of mimes once beloved
A friend thought lost
Finds his way to us
Across the city
Following the trail of feathers
We travel to the Gulf
Hold court in a minivan
Journey across the sand
A desert made of dead infants
Crying out, faces in agony
I keep my eyes on the distance
So as to not look down
When I step on their noses

Reminisce

There is no way you can understand the pain, and I pray you never do. Imagine your secret, sacred heart- the place where all is known. A danger is coming, and while you wish nothing more than to stay, you know you must leave. Your dearest friends are gone, left to an uncertain destination. You try to beat the stampede, but are caught in the mad throng of fearful abandonment. Over fourteen hours to make a journey that would usually take two. Hoping against hope that it's not as bad as they say. Sitting in a hotel lobby, alone, watching the horror unfold in grainy resolution. Watching your home, your love, your life washed away in dirty storm water. Watching people wade through a stew of oil and filth. Hearing stories of violence and murder and pain. Seeing the spray-painted signs on doors, knowing there is human rot waiting behind. These images are etched over the memories you have made. The street you had walked down countless times is the scene of death- corpses left in the street, a discarded blanket the only cover. The bar you spent hours at, talking with friends, is making a desperate stand against looters and villains. Knowing it will be a long time before you can return home, and that the life you lived is completely gone forever. You bide your time in a city you grow to hate. You try to prepare yourself for what it will be like when you're finally allowed to return home. Relief mixes with dread, mixes with hope, mixes with despair. When you make the long journey home, you are greeted with a shadow of the former glory. What once was bright and joyous is now feeble and fragile. The water lines on houses. The dirt in the air. The mountains of refuse. The stench of spoiled food from fridges on every corner. The absence of music. The city is a ghost town. There are more military vehicles than civilian. Your friends are gone, scattered to the winds. You don't know if you'll ever see them again. You stagger down the familiar streets and search for something to cling to. You are home. But you know nothing will ever be the same.

6 Years

A witness to a drowning
Helpless to all but observation
A spectator, bound by distance
Unable to act on any impulse
A tourist in a hotel lobby
Transfixed at the bar
Given french fries in comfort
While watching a mother die
The winds blow
The water rises
The people suffer
The city is left to rot
Time aches for an uncertain future
Loved ones are scattered to the winds
This purgatory is all that’s left
This ache is all I know
I hold it together for her
I hold it in for myself
I hold out for the hope of home
And still I shed no tears.

You are with me
I carry your memory always
A light against the darkness
A shield against the pain
You are with me
I see you in the stars
Feel you in the wind
Taste you in the salt water sea
You are with me
The hours we have spent, the blood in my veins
The laughter we have shared, each beat of my heart
The tears we have wept, the lines on my face
You are with me
Your living was a gift
Your leaving was a sacrifice
Your absence is a reminder of my love for you