A clothes hanger
                   clutches a line
                   of paper lanterns
                                     lighting my next step
                                     on streets my shoes stick to
                                               from wheat beer
I hear the ‘Pit'                      coursing through cracks  
                    &                        inebriating aged clay bricks
                    ‘Pat”
                     of rain on rooftops
                                   & falsely take it
                                       for Charlie Parker's
                                                     'Hot House'
but it’s 2am near Tulane
  & they’ve graduated to
                  tracks from Tremé;
                  Brass jazz & barflies;
                  Mad Hatters & Mademoiselles
                                     dancing barefoot
                                     in the French Quarters
                                            under red fluorescent lights
                                               under cloud-covered stars;
She gets them drunk off dance & song;
Guaranteed to make locals
                      late to last call;
                      shows them back-country gems,
                        the beautiful ruins known only
                                                      by bayou gals
                                                            & city folk
outside,                                              in search of sirens
where the ceiling's missing,
dancing 'till their bodies taste like rain

They 'crash'
                    &
                       'splash'
                                       .....breaking through worn wooden floors
                                                          ­           & cracks in plaster walls
lead by the ‘Pit’                                                     back to the street,
                        &
                      ‘Pat’
                              as other strange drops join the dance,
                              descending from skies to rooftops;
                                                     Finding lower highs
                                                     in search of Bourbon Street
                                                          ­          lost & looking
&                                                                 near Tulane at 2am
my blue suede shoes are dying of thirst,
                                 stuck upon each step;
                                          lacking direction
&                                         looking for jazz
waiting to drown
      in the 'Pit'
                 & 'Pat'
                     & splash
                         of this daily rain dance;
                         Lose myself in this listening
                         as dreamers do
                             on the streets near Tulane
                             At 2am;

Somehow today I saw disappointment on your face
And something just snapped inside of me
How does my 4.125 GPA not please you?
How does balancing my honor role with
Being one of the starters on the basket ball team
unsatisfactory
How does going to ******* Tulane for neuroscience
Not good enough.
What about going to state for track WHILE
maintaining mostly A's just okay
I get this feeling you don't appreciate me
As much as you should,
A daughter that her reasoning for striving
To do everything perfectly
Is to please you
Because I feel like I still haven't quite done it yet.

the charm of French Colonial style
   with Cajun cooking promised -"genuine!" -
   at every second door
jazz bands at every other

the flair of well-groomed wealth and savoir vivre
   exuding from St. Charles´ porticos,
   the restaurants on Calle du Roi,
the campuses of Tulane, UNO, and Loyola

the grandeur of the superdome
the open space of Audubon and City Park
   oakes draped with Spanish Moss
alive with jogging, skating, biking, walking health
   between the nights -

all this makes you almost forget
the city project housings
slumming beneath the highrise business shadows
   crime ridden,
floating on neverending waves of dime-a-dozen tunes
from hi-fi stereos of cruising cars

the grand lake spoiled for generations
with the big city's waste,
the 'father of rivers' dwarfed beyond repair
by wharfs and cranes and fortified embankments
that line his banks as far as you can see
   and far beyond

a shotgun wedding of the rich and poor,
   the black and white,
   torn by the struggle to ascend
   from shotgun to colonial
to the soft sound of dixie

              * *

My then boyfriend
Now husband
Never forgave you for putting your hand on my thigh,
Casually mentioning the ******* beaches in the south of France.
Your daughter needed a chaperone on your family’s upcoming vacation.

You went and I stayed of course
The ******* beach all the poorer for my absence.

I am not the kind of girl who
Finds herself at Disney Paris at the end of the movie.
That’s not the way this movie ends, anyhow.

12 years later
One lung lighter
Tens of millions denser
and poised to send your daughter
to Dartmouth
Or Tulane
Or anywhere she’d rather.

She’ll have everything the world could offer her
In exchange for her father.

A parent shouldn’t have to know.

So I forgave you the hand thing
And the lewdness of a drunken survivor
Poised on the lip of an ever-widening hole.

If you asked to take me now,
I think I’d go.
I’ve always wanted to see the Louvre.
I can almost hear it:
The clicking heels and murmurs,
Your overwrought humanities professor explanations of this or that and me humoring you with appropriate reverence as always,
And the dead certain silence of the thing we will not speak about,
Pointedly conspicuous in its absence,
Filling the space between.

Part of me wants to quit school,
Run away, hitching rides on cargo planes
To foreign countries and experience life
As they do, encounter the wild, natural world
Instead of watching it on animal planet
But then again, you need money for anything,
And it seems like my life has already
Been predetermined, set on a path
I'm vet school and Tulane bound, that's what would make my parents proud
I still have a choice they say,
But that on it's own is daring me to pick the wrong thing
And they'll disprove of me forever

"We should impulsively drive to my camp in Mississippi... wait i don't have a key"
Which led to
"Sculpture garden? Nah it's closed"
"Star park? Cheap tent from Walmart... closed"
Then she said "wait I have an idea, I just need to park in front of Tulane to figure it out"
She then tapped on her screen a bit then proposed we drive to bay St. Louis beach in MS, which was about 1 hr away. We could split a motel.
So we did.
We couldn't stop giggling about the absurdity and what I imagine was the first breath of life that either of us had in a while.
I dropped her off at her dorm so she could grab her things. As soon as she got in the drivers seat I kissed her. It was quick and not my best work. Sloppy. She wasn't fully situated but hey. I had to. I said "sorry" she said it's good but we can't stay here we gotta get on the road. So we did. We sang in the car and enjoyed each other's company. We got there and checked into our room. still laughing. We went to the beach after dropping off our things. I took my shoes and socks off and walked barefoot on the sand. It was really cold and foggy and I was wearing three layers. We walked a ways down the beach holding hands until I stopped to try a long jump. Miranda did it too but she fell on her ***. After that she drew in the sand. Two girls facing one another. I assume it was us. Too nervous to ask. She beat me in tic tac toe and was talking **** so I jokingly threatened her. "What are you gonna do Throw me in the ocean". "Yeah actually. I am" so I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder and walked into the water. She was resisting and begging me not to. I made her apologize then I put her down. We eventually started walking back toward the car. I got a bad migraine walking back because I realized I didn't have my glasses. Anyway. It started raining hard and miranda made a joke with the umbrella, pretending to be a news anchor "it is REALLY coming down out here John. I hope you evacuated because these winds are STRONG." We got closeish to the car and she stopped in the sand. I didn't notice she stopped until I was a few steps ahead. I turned around to ask her what's up but she was acting very strange. She had something written or drawn in the sand and when I asked what it was she kicked it away and said nothing lets go. I was like "Miranda what the **** now you have to tell me". But she kept walking and I was like ok!! Bc honestly it was rainy and my head hurt and I was cold. We got to the parking lot almost. she was like ugh come here and we walked back to the same spot she had stopped before. She put foot prints in the sand then took a step back. Stepped in her footprints. Another step back.. at this point I was like oh man is she having a mental break? She seemed frustrated and she walked a few feet away from me. I was like dude what the **** is going on. She walked (stormed?) up to me with intensity and kissed me. The wind had blown hair into my mouth so I pulled back to fix it. Then it happened again. Fixed it again. There we stood. On a foggy rainy beach at night. My right hand on her waist. I don't know what I had done with my left hand but we just. Kissed. And it was beautiful. I love her so much. Part 2 in the morning. I'm very sleepy