The Cost of Consideration

I often think backwards of sunsets

Like pulling strings, uncreating 

The way I have accumulated shades and hues of light.

The breaks in voices, their concavity is familiar terrain.

Retracing steps over,

And the ways I have memorized

The air in spaces between.

Lucid dreaming in sun-soaked cars. 

I am filled with a stretching sense of lack of self

Pulled between creation stories. 

So much, I am having trouble 

Loving those 

Drifting, for me, in and out

Of Louisiana. 

Where the wind feels like an army of tongues

Pressed shoulder to shirt

And skin to miscellaneous skin.

Louisiana feels like 

Forgetting feels like.

Like mind seeping from head,

Pooling below feet

And simmering.

Awaiting, 

Return is inevitable and the mind:

You too, will be back. 

I have favored all but the current

Bruising my knees on unpaved sidewalks

And tripping over dust like

Stumbling over recounted words

Empty promises.

Hope has lingered in the potholes, 

Present, despite an abundance of cracks.

Forgetfulness does not imply power

But here I will pretend it does.