when a song ends in a minor key

Washington, DC

But I'll admit I provided a full moon

Taking stock of a year:

This one will last forever. The nights with you, that is. First huddled over heartbreak and hamburgers in the coldest, worst restaurant we ever visited together. Plenty of spins after that -- me turning in the same wrong direction, again, again -- but every place seemed to settle back at you.

This day last year, it was just a twinkling, a want-to-write-you-back-now-but-why. But this year I know: I hope every whirl around this axis is with you.

She had been 8 for a hundred years. She was 34 for seven minutes.

Poverty Point
Delhi, La.

Your term is not commuted. It lingers without a sound.

Outside the abandoned swimming pool
Delhi, La.

Remember vividly how them victory points had hurt me

The boys of Chatham Street: The 9-year-old on the right knows how to dribble. The 10-year-old at the left says he can dunk. The middle is the straight-shooter, never-miss but never-risk. Thirteen years old in a town of 2,900 where half the graduates go to college, but few keep attending past that first semester. But right now, damn it's cold. Pass him the ball.

Delhi, La.

and it wasn't because I knew you or coveted your leathers

Epps, La.

Nothing moved fast, even the daylight was slow to fade

My cousin Chris is working on a score for the documentary. We spent the last week or so at a cabin in Delhi on the Poverty Point Reservoir.