politricks and other distractions

Hope -- and Wayne - Float

It's almost a full moon. Maybe that's why Wayne is on my mind so much. It's nowhere near the anniversary of his murder, it's just that a mutual friend recently reported on the situation in New Orleans and stories from that city always make me think of him.

Sue said that the city is barely making it. If another hurricane hits, it will be finished for good. There will be no bringing it back. Every house in Uptown has a "for sale" sign on it, though her former employer - an optician - is doing surprisingly well. I guess everybody who's left lost their glasses.

Being the morbid person I am, I asked her if the cemeteries flooded. They're up at the end of Canal Street, by the 10 freeway. She'd mentioned everything from there to the river is unrecognizable, so she gave me the opening and I've been wanting to know. I've spent so much time taking the bus up Canal to the end of the line to Greenwood to visit Wayne's grave. The cemetery is like a city. It has streets and addresses. He's near the intersection of Magnolia and Pine - which I remember because his friend Mel used to joke that was appropriate. Pine box and all.

I met a man on my first visit to the grave. I'd finished my freakout at Wayne's mausoleum. I'd leaned across the top of the box, trying to send my energy through the cement to whatever was left of the body I once loved to hold and be held by. I sat and smoked a joint, then left a roach in the flower vase attached to the mausoleum's face. It was like the ancient Greeks, pouring some of the wine on the ground for the gods. I wanted him to share.

As I walked back down the lane, I ran into a man sweeping up around his wife's grave. We shared our stories. He showed me a picture of his wife, "Huggy," who'd recently died of cancer. I showed him the picture I carried of Wayne. He recognized him. It turns out he lived down the street from Wayne's mother. He promised me he'd take care of Wayne's grave and watch over it in case drunk vandals from the nearby bar scaled the fence (as they were wont to do) and broke it open to drag out his remains. I thanked him and wandered away, dazed by yet another horror I hadn't imagined possible.

Back in the present, Sue told me the cemeteries did flood. It makes me happy. Wayne loved to dance, and he'd like nothing better than to have his bones floating as his city was submerged. Someday I'll get back there to check on things, but it will probably be awhile. If Sue's prediction is right, it will be a time when the dead in the city vastly outnumber the living. In that case, it will be good to have a spirit guide I once loved. Okay, still do.

posted by dcnative @ 9:30 PM