Marie Laveau

One incarnation of myself had a baby with a later incarnation of myself and that is the present me. I am forever a result of my own and someone else's' decisions and my own inequities. When. I do spur of the moment dishes I'm enveloped in the glow of past me. I know that my future self will sing praises upon the baby that past and future made. But mistakes have been made. There have been past selves who gave no thought to the present and presents that thought too much about the past self. The future me unveiled itself to both the baby and the past. The higher me, the one inside that rides along with the family of three the past the future the baby no presences, the thoughtful and mislead past baby present its infantile wail and thin skin, soft spot and the presences of the something, the ride along, the fool, the kidney bean sized something that lives with a typewriter and magnifying glass and highlighter inside so close to finding that magic that will reduce the fucking spectrum a bit and maybe some of us could get some real Louisiana sleep around here. I need a wall or a bridge. A window or a can of peas.