I’m on a blood buzz.
Sort of, intoxicated-like,
on family and history and potato salad.
Sadness is a tingle,
much like when your foot falls asleep,
but you are very much awake.
God, am I awake.
I tingle here and there,
this is how I know:
I’ve lost a great love.
Vibrations, almost.
a bit of shell shock.
my ears muffle when you talk to me.
Not all the time. I try to listen.
I try not to think about her.
I realize it’s a losing battle to not think about someone.
how does one snap out of this?
to fall in love again?
to kiss in the dark again?
yes, I know this.
but today, I stare outside my window
I see mostly brown,
but then again, I would.
The green is coming.
daffodils line them Miss’ippi highways;
I can see them!
(something deep inside of me proclaims)
and I am hungover
from big pains
and too much fried catfish.
buzzed. like with too much wine,
but for my family,
my history,
drunk-like,
with them old southern ways,
and hummin’ the hymns
I used to sing.
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