Collection

The storm came with a name and a premonition but we didn't listen, right away cat 4, cat 5 Kat--rina

And we ran so hard and fast that our gas tanks, if not our lungs were gasping

And at every stop I looked around and recited my list of belongings - a mantra that offered no comfort: 1 pair of jeans, 4 shirts, 2 socks, girlfriend, car, and one very old cat we refused to leave behind

And when we stopped for 3 days and flipped on the news I sat there with my soul coming undone as I watched my city fall apart, and I watched my people die

Now you look at me and see a white girl bearing no resemblence to who you see on tv waiting, trying and dying for the government to end its vacation to bring help and salvation but we are the same, these people and me

In my state there is a kinship. If you're on the road and meet someone from home you hug like old friends like family because you share this dark secret in your blood. It flows like water, smells like salt and clangs like The Rebirth Brass Band upon recognition.

There is no reason that I'm not waiting on a rooftop. There is no reason I'm not wading through the water I called home. And really, there's no reason at all, though I keep searching for it.

And songs keep spiraling through my brain taunting me with repetition and baiting me with their hooks... The Pretenders echo, with the lyrics changed:

I went back to New Orleans and my city was gone.