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We could never have blue lights at our house, colored lights for that matter. Reasons known to us. My father didn't want bottles in my window, not something that could be seen from the road.
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I used to lie out on back porches and listen to crickets sing.
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The first time I ever did cocaine, I was in New Orleans. My husband was home writing a thesis. I take that back. It was in a bathroom in Jackson when I worked for the theatre. You would have thought I was doing something good and being praised for it. Later came St. Charles Avenue, spiraling upward in my mind. I later wrote a poem about Betty's Bar. We were like young unbridled animals but the cost could have been high. I got tired of fast heartbeats and waking up in another person's house. I got tired of my friends not taking me to a doctor. I got tired of passing out and thinking I might or could be dead. I got tired of lying out in parking lots during a hurricane or tornado. I got tired of lying on a floor. Where and how do we fit some people into our lives; people who make us sparkle and real? People we take baths with when it's raining inside our window. People we walk naked with outside on the lawn; people like us.
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Her Life
