loyd.net

The second time I was to marry
I snuck off the night before,
When tradition says the couple must not see each other.
I drove south of town
To where he lived in a tiny house in the country.
(I had not lived here long,
I did not know the region,
I did not even know if there was any place that far south of town
Before the land ended and the gulf began.)
I slept in the small porch-like room at the end of the house;
There was not enough room in the small bed.

As we gathered at the church,
I had my luggage packed,
I looked for a place to stash it during the ceremony.
My two best friends came to greet me,
I started to ask if they would watch my luggage,
Then I realized what I was saying—
They were exactly the reason I needed to hide my luggage!
For if you friends don't pull practical jokes on you,
Who will?

Years later I was looking for a house.
There was a miniscule cracker house south of town,
Right on the river, near the coast.
(I learned the region rather well that summer while house-hunting.)
This certainly was not the kind of place I wanted to live.
The back room, a converted porch,
Was used as a living and dining room.
It was the only air conditioned room,
And it was a very hot and dry summer—
So the black plastic couch served as a small bed.
It seemed frighteningly familiar.
Especially frightening because, at the time,
Some misogynistic biker was renting the place.

Dreamscape IX Dreamscape Dreamscape XI