—IT’S A BEAUTIFUL CURSE 

 

Lake Charles

  

I was making the 

same mistake again,

looking back. 

A car turned too 

sharply on the road. 

All I saw was smoke 

and tufts of dander. 

There were still miles to walk. 

I asked a scarecrow 

on the way where 

Lake Charles was but 

he just hung there, 

smug and familiar, 

proud as he should be, 

his thumbs crushed and

pointing nowhere.