The Weekender

“The Weekender”

1.
Why hide
if there is nothing to hide?

I keep thinking of that
Will Oldham song:
“Gulf Shores.”

Where are you?
You runner, “prince with a thousand enemies.”

I imagine you
on the beach
listening to the waves, getting sunburned-
sweat dried into white crust

on your brow. Convincing yourself of something,
and returning with ultimatums and resolutions
built to be destroyed
by the dark bars of this town.

In a fit of paranoia,
I imagine you in the city-
the two of you feeling pity for me.

I imagine you
driving North to
hide in bed for two days
with this latest teacher.

Why look for relief
when you have found it before here?

Is it an indulgence?
Do you feel put upon? Pursued?

2.
I ask too many questions I know,
but that’s what love is as far as I am aware:

I need to know everything.
I savor the details, the glances and the
stories about people I’ve never met.

Sharing ridiculous secrets. Like children.

But you’ve gone away for the weekend
and I do not know you at all:

I understand you are going.
and when you go,
I will go.

Not immediately, you understand, but eventually,
I can’t fight this current-
something you see on the ocean-
way out, in the haze of the gulf-

something out there moves, and is black against the sky for while,
then disappears over the horizon,
or sinks. From your position
it is impossible to know which-

but it is gone, anyone can see that.

New Orleans, Spring 2007