things seen while on the road in texas:
a dozen zebras, grazing
oil silos like giant tin drums
tufts of buttery yellow flowers along the edges of the highway
the world's smallest catholic church
buc-ee the beaver, high in the sky
an impossible sea of blinding white tents
wide open forever and ever skies
an old drive-in theatre so beautiful, I could not breathe
things seen today in new orleans and beyond:
alligator jerky
a painter's crusted palette
a wall of bottled hot sauce
donald trump voodoo dolls by the dozens
clumps and sprinkles of powdered sugar on the sidewalk
a message scribbled on a pink wall on st. claude: 'baby, went to frenchmen street-- love, boo'
a man in an ivory wool suit with matching fedora
bayou after bayou after bayou
houses on skinny wooden-legged stilts
roads swooning with live oaks
signs urging the world to vote for someone named 'tater'
a roadside memorial cross accompanied by a dozen small silver spinning pinwheels
a carpet of tiny white daisies along the shoulder of the road
another fiery farewell sunset in my rearview mirror
things seen today in new orleans:
neon colored wigs
bone white grave markers
a welcome, sprawling canopy of live oaks
a man on a bike, wearing a cotton bonnet the color of milk
a man on a bike, wearing no pants, no pants at all
homemade milk crate basketball goals
a lemon yellow pothole with the words 'love me tender' stenciled on it
an older couple sitting on the high bench outside outside hansen's sno-bliz, legs dangling, feet not touching, eating sno-balls
a collection of old memory jugs encrusted with bits of buttons and shells and beads and pieces of remembered things
a man in tortoise shell glasses pecking away on an old typewriter at breakfast
a window with the words 'no peeping toms' carefully painted on it
the dark insides of an old dip-and-dunk chemical photobooth
the candy colors of the bywater from the seat of a bike
the candy colors of the french quarter from the seat of a bike
a crazy vivid tangerine pink bittersweet farewell sunset
things seen today in new orleans:
tiny hand-painted matchboxes
tiny pink blooms on our courtyard table, like confetti
two men in wide-brimmed straw hats, holding cameras, taking pictures
a dragonfly resting on top of a woman's teased head of hair while she read a book, completely unaware
bright orange koi in the little courtyard fountain
the brightest, orangest house I have ever seen in my life
magnolia branches and pillowy clouds, as I floated on my back in the pool
a clawfoot tub filled with flowers
a somber chorus of ghost bikes
a wall full of books and light
a wall full of whiskey bottles and light
a bright red sock near the bus stop
a bright red street car on st. claude
a trashcan with the words 'you deserve to be here' scribbled on top
things seen on a long sunday drive:
tire swings
old train depots
roadside wildflowers
peaches (exit 31)
churches (still in session)
cemeteries next door to gas stations
billowy clouds in my rearview mirror
waffle house
waffle house, always
