How did I not see the splendor?
I only felt the dusty bake,
And need of rain. A dry, brown place
Amid dead fields and shrunken lakes.

With kith and kin deceived, fled
To grandeur known as Good Time Isle
Playground for singles and misfits;
Tangerine suns and love beguiled.

Neon sands to strut and plunder,
Scattering lust on evening’s tide,
Watching young girls dance poetry
On sidewalks of smoke, tears and lies.

A decade echoes my return
Across bayous and new dug graves--
Where pain thickens like chokeweed. Pray--
For my wicked and wanton ways.

Sing me songs by the river’s edge
With pole and line, I co-reside,
Wanting undeserved forgiveness 
The darkness of your eyes decline.