So a friend tells me I'm a writer. I'm not. I'm a clinger. Grasping on in these dark days to say, "Nonsense!" Dark days continue. Life is ending and rebeginning in all shapes and forms.

Newest catastrophe, hurricane making New Orleans a cesspool. We shake our heads, we shake our booties, we shake our bottles, we drink it away. We drink for months at a time. We drink to avoid things that make no sense, like classes about our drinking.

We sink and sinking die of life even as relife happens.

We wish, we dream, where's my life? Where's my partner?

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