Emily,

I'm lost

My golden chariot is toppled

in a drainage ditch littered with

victorian syringes

bloody straws

glassine bags

severed heads

and moth eaten sweaters

Get straight for this world?

I'll get straight for two reasons

For you to be a subject

in the empire of my mind

and for that lone pelican

stuck in the muck

of the once glorious

Gulf Coast