Louisiana Nightmare (9/18/05)

Eight
Frightened
Stretched across the tall oak bookcase
Used to hold my dad’s books
Encyclopedias, National Geographics,
A few Playboys hiding behind some large Bibles
But they all were washed away so the shelves are empty
And the wood is a bit warped
Been easy to sleep
Water in the house makes a gentle sound
Big window in the living room is broken
Can still see some of the street outside
There were bodies, cars, boats floating by
Headless majorette still clutching a baton
Policeman in uniform
A few deceased cats
Bizarre parade out of Dawn of the Dead
But this is real and it makes me sad
A few people floated in last night
A man first then a woman
She was shy, floating face down
A boy and girl
If the three face up people were outside
They might have been watching the stars
But now it was just our ceiling
Which was peeling
Could have been a family
Made up a conversation with them about who they were,
Where they had been, where they were going
They didn’t look dead just peaceful
In the morning the gators came by for a snack
I couldn’t watch
I closed my eyes
The people didn’t put up much of a fight
They seemed to just enjoy their new roles as breakfast
Gators looked up at me but I was too high.
They snapped their mouths open and shut
Like they were saying We’ll be back—you’re lunch
There were just a few arms left
Guess they don’t taste as good to gators.
In the evening some looters with flashlights
Tried to take the television off the wall
It was full of water they gave up.
They didn’t see me or maybe they were ignoring me
Still have a few candy bars left and some bottles of water
Mom left them when she put me up on the bookcase
Was a good idea cuz I can’t swim
She went to look for Dad
But she never came back
They all disappeared one by one
Even my brother and sister
They said they would return but they lied.
The world smells really bad
I’ve lost count of the days
Maybe I have been forgotten

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