Carolina mine, 7:49

I’m up on one foot up on top of a rickety table with the class drawing moi, my clothes on the floor. I asked them if I could write you as they sketched me. I told them you used to drink with Professor Longhair’s nurse. No problem.

Yes, New Orleans would still be fond of you. What year did you come here? Which fall? I can see you here so clearly among the nettles with Becky and her boy with the BA and all.

So, Carolina, how are you? Dad told me about your legs. You should still try and leave your place sometimes, all those books are no good for your thighs.

I hear Mrs. Whittle is bringing you her used crossword puzzles and watches the news with you when her husband goes to sleep. Well, there’s a news piece on our shelter that ABC is running right now. Look for me in my red undervest. I’m the one passing out the custard and the rolls, which aren’t that bad, and the one who says "county" instead of "parish." But, they give me enough space to go and check out the Saints if they’re in a race, or if I just want to go walking instead.

I always feel like I’m in the shower when I do this. Makes me want to turn around and get warmer. Reminds me of how I’d go 7-6-5-4-3 and jump out into the January bathroom in our first house. Yes, I’ve got a heater here. The coils smell like frying coins, but, what the hell, it keeps me in juice. No wagging tongues with this group. The first day one of the guys looked me up and down. Bastard hasn’t done it since.

While I’m thinking of it, thank you for the care package. Panties and Pamprin I did need, but, the toothbrush? Is that a hint? If I find a guy who sucks peppermints, does that count?

My Pentax has been relaxing since I took it with me to Mississippi last weekend, but I got a lot of the sunsets you like. The ones where the power lines cut right through it, and some mirages from the middle of the road.

Well, I’ve lined up my prints and I’m sending them out to New York, London and the East. And there’s a men’s group in town. I want to see if they want to use my portraits of hazing and PE.

I’ve been going through my new photo album, crickling pat the pages, remembering my pornography of The Boys Who Would Be Hazed. Any old afternoon recess I’d just stand around by the swings, and the kid with the snot on his nose wouldn’t hear the vultures in front to him try to sing. And running, tripping and bashing his head on the knees of the one who is standing on his papers and his lunch box, he take his money off him and keeps smoking.

You haven’t seen this series. I took most of these in German, some from Italy, an some from when I was in high school in Spokane. And I still find myself just staring...What could I possibly do except dry the emulsion of these rainy night baseball bat attacks from my perch up on the chimney stacks? And there’s one thing that I heard when they were tearing the wings off this one boy: "And that’s for your brother, and that’s for your sister, and you mother always stinks."

All the boys I think I’ve saved, and the way I watched them in pain. And if I’d just put down the god-damned camera they’d probably show me what they crave. I know their eyes and the way that they walk over streets N-O-P-Q. And I remember the three from the street who saw me lighting joss sticks through my window when Billie Holliday was singing in my room.

Did you hear about Tanya? Try not to spread it around. To think that I was the only one at high school who talked to her more than once and if only anyone else there knew.... I’m going to name my first rose after her. She’d like that.

I’m alone. I’m alone, but I feel a Manhattan night might do me some good right now, and my friend in NYC, Deidre, is arriving Saturday with her wheelchair and the address of a doctor somewhere in town. Hopefully some of that pixie dust from The City will rub off on me.

Jack Johnson is pumping on my blaster, and this drink I son me, Carolina. And, yes, I still get North and South confused. But in this town I’m silhouetted in a nightclub alley with a cameo to hear some blues.

Well, this tart with a heart is going to climb down into her pants and patent laced shoes.

Shake a leg,

Much love, Estrelica