[ he/him ]
city: BoiseA few months back, I walked past a bus stop and noticed a small piece of paper tucked into the bars of a metal bench. In shaky handwriting that looked both deranged and Biblical, the note said, “This is the tale of my resurrection. I died so I could live again.” l found the nearest patch of grass and lay down like a dummy. This note was either a message from an angel or the ravings of a pharmaceutical junkie — maybe both. Either way it was just for me. I don’t think it’s possible to have true character without first catching a glimpse of hell. Maybe that’s what it meant? In the words of W.H. Auden, “Don’t get rid of my devils, because my angels will go too.” Whatever this poetic rascal, angel or imp was getting at, these words rang the bell of my soul. I went home and wrote ‘Lucy Takes a Picture.’