Dear Lou

Someone asked me not long ago if I felt like
doing a little coke. I said no, but I thought
again about that part of me who used to say
yes. What exactly were we talking about
anyway, all those nights we stayed up rappin'
to the point of oxygen deprivation? You know,
Lou, no offense, but you must have been
one of the ugliest mothers I ever saw when
you were all high like that. Didn't
it feel like we were livin' large? I can't remember
a damn thing about what happened, other than
drooling like a dog and spewing out about
a thousand words a minute. How large were
we really livin' then if so much went down that
is totally forgotten now? I remember crack hit
and we went out and tried that shit and
it was like, "What the hell are people so
uppity about that shit for? That shit ain't worth
a dime." Five minutes up just didn't do it. We
were in for the long haul, huh? The week
straight, the month, the year. I can't do it at all
anymore, of course. What I must have been
feeling then, well, it would feel like death
to me now. I hate to lose the days and nights.
I try to take up every last one in my arms now,
try to grasp what's been passing me by all these years.
I remember how painfully your mother died
a few years back, and I remember how cynical
you were about her efforts to stay healthy
in her final days. So I picture you back in that
big, ugly city where the C and the H flood
the streets, and I wonder what you've been
up to lately. I trust you believe by now in
all the reasons there are to know what straight
means. How many reasons there are just
to find a few people you can learn to love--
let that be your high life--sit around all day
staring at those people while your straight life
goes on auto-pilot, dealing with the cold,
cruel world outside by itself. I trust you try
as hard as you can to remember the days as
they pass now, like me, try to write them down,
photograph them, film them so you can hold
those old days up to the light at some later date,
look up at them and feel proud you had
so many little minutes in your life. Don't you
try to keep them from slipping away empty?
I know you do. Good luck, Lou. If you happen
to run into Jacinto or César by any chance, give
them my best. I trust they finally made it up
and out too. And don't let that city keep you
from keeping in mind there's a whole sky
above the skyscrapers just waiting to be seen.

(1996)