Love in the Ruins

Anti-Love Poem
Sometimes you don’t want to love the person you love
You turn your face away from that face
Whose eyes lips might make you give up anger
Forget insult steal sadness of now wanting
To love turn away then turn away at breakfast
In the evening don’t lift your eyes from the paper
To see that face in all its seriousness a
Sweetness of concentration he holds his book
In his hand the hard-knuckled winter wood-
Scarred fingers turn away that’s all you can
Do old as you are to save yourself from love
Grace Paley

Paley’s book “Enormous Changes at the Last Minute” a title that ties together my last six months.

This morning woke in a strange bed, taking a while to figure out where I was – L returns with his mother today and I go back to my bed that I have spent so little time in having had to be a nomad within a few block radius – always passing by my real home – LaLa – and never feeling home anywhere.

The bayou this morning was glassy reflecting the pinkish dawn and scalloped edged clouds – frost on the footbridge. Only one yell for “Rachel” across the bayou and I was able to continue alone, deep in thought, till I passed a talking wreath that yelled out HO HO HO MERRY CHRISTMAS and I jumped out of my skin scaring Max, Felix and Arlene simultaneously.

Last night the holiday party at the smiling running couple’s house J and P – J kept saying after tipping back a little too much – “April” when asked if he would run for mayor or council or what – so we’ll see if soon our neighbor will be the one who helps us get the trash cleaned up in midcity.

The crowd was uber New Orleans – women dressed in their trashy make-up and uneven hemmed dresses and pointy pumps. Men looking but not saying much except for MS who was hilarious – New Orleans to a T – talking about his brother Pat, doing well with his friends who call him Patio so you know he’s fine – forgot he’s been with JJ as drummer for a long time now – standing by the fire with strangers and turning in tandem like rotisserie chickens – and the bands – Paula and the Pontiacs, then Johnny Jay and the Hit Men – “I’m paying they should be playing” – Jay played at Nanc and my graduation party so many years ago – Monster’s – how appropriate – also in a dark low ceiling venue and he seems unchanged but still wound up like a top and still so much fun to dance to.

The dancing and dancing and watching N dance out of the corner of my mind – so fluid – something to behold the way she moves – the tips of her fingers an extension of a rhythm her body finds and connects to the music – grace, art, femininity – I was mesmerized by her dancing. She has perfected its expression and it is N to a T.

Then B had to bring me inside and sit me down at L’s table with N in the truck – a pseudo tuck in because N and I both needed care after twisting the night away. I woke in L’s bed wondering if I could make these end of days last a little longer, be a little sweeter, find neutral or zoom, but not crash and burn with the enormity of all the days that have led up to now. I thought of W’s “unleash the good” and “here’s to rebuilding New Orleans fast” and again his little fingers curling unconsciously around mine and offering me a life line to joy. Thoughts of L’s voicemail last night – we have no control over what is going to happen, but things will be good and we have to trust that they will.

I also thought of the little sign getting off the exit amongst all the signs for such and such business is open that said – I love you Pam – and sitting in H’s chair yesterday and the 12-year-old girl looking at me – “what are you getting done?” Color, I said – “no don’t change your hair color I think it is perfect” – honey I’m only making it a little more perfect I told her. Then H said “roots only?” And I said no, go all the way, what the hell and he said, “Good, I like to hear that, I hate stopping at step one it turns me into a beast.” And I laughed and laughed. And then he entertained me with his recollections of a fling with a body builder who he said scared him to death – made him crawl through the window to enact her fantasy – he said “open the door” but she wouldn’t so window it was.

And N saying she waited for me after I stood in front of her door this morning whistling to get Renny to wake her up – saying she doesn’t remember B tucking me in but figured we had a good time. We passed a good time, yeah. And today I will fight melancholy – give it the good old college try – D and S in with their families, now to find solace amongst my girls who have always provided a bottomless pit of love to fall into.

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