This is a quick anniversary note to my husband since ten years ago was our surprise Halloween costume wedding. We didn't tell anyone it was a wedding so my best friend rattled around behind me with a ball and chain because she came as a prisoner. It was perfect.
Our wedding photos are kind of mold-ridden, so this picture is from our three month evacuation when we still had that "can we live in your spare room?" look.
After ten years of marriage, we're recovering from a weekend with rocker friends at the Voodoo Music Experience, and almost getting kicked out of the Dungeon for dancing too enthusiastically. Apparently there's no jumping in the Dungeon. Mike Mills came down to show his New Orleans support, Dr. John delivered a stunning Voodoo set, and Rev. Goat, who just moved back home this week, was in the center of the stage blissfully waving his buzzard wing. He says it's a symbol for the fact that in the end the buzzard gets us all. Our friends are cheery like that.
So here's your anniversary present poem, Jeff. Thanks for starting the New Orleans Musicians Relief Fund, it helps keep me busy. Any husband who still packs costumes for every trip to New Orleans, and who dances once in a blue moon, is worth sticking around for.
Oh Dear
The pace of personalities relentless
and the flies are back again
I always knew you would be the one survivor
but what's to be proven in a green tree splitting
holding on ferociously to the sap still flowing
Dry rot?
We whittle on and won't hear of it
Splitting in two, why it's twice the fun
throughout your rhymey, rhymey, rhymey, rhymey life
Come here
To the crisis unit which has waited for so long
Damn the flies! Not nearly enough people have told you
you're a genius
Don't hold your breath
But you can hold my ever-straining horses
The world suddenly got so silent, don't you agree?
Breath that chills your cheek to the bone
Marrow that whispers as long as I flow
Golden blue light leaves you never alone
Back here