Oxford, Mississippi.
Where do I begin?
Oxford, Mississippi.
You prophesied the end of an era.
Your chill air,
your unbothered roads,
your Wendy's drive-thru,
all etched into my memories,
those nights.
I spoke on the phone with my lover
and the Oxford air did not love her.
It screeched and moaned in agony.
She whispered into my ear,
"She does not listen.
She does not care.
There's no love in her heart.
There's no love anywhere.
She is no longer the she that you have once loved,
for she was murdered by a man. That man, the shadow of her,
killed her day by day.
Whether that man be her father, her brother, or her grandfather
remains a mystery to me.
My cold arms wrap around you
Beneath the streetlights so you can see."
This story is not a tale and the wind was right.
Because day by day, I watched my love fade from sight.
That man kissed me..
but he lacked her intensity.
That man hugged me..
yet showed no signs of loving.
That man even pleased my body..
but could never satisfy my heart.
So the woman I sat down beside,
about 28, smoking a Marlboro Black, stench wrapping around me,
said to me, "Lonely night, is it not?"
To which I replied it surely was.
She placed her hand upon my lap,
"I see you need company."
I surely did.
Out her cigarette went and she flung her arms around me.
She cried to the point I was overwhelmed.
I cried too.
Moments later, on that Marriot bench outside
at roughly 1:28am, our tears and our tongues made love.
I was 15.
She was a stranger.
After our tears had dried we walked along the sidewalks under the streetlights.
To this piece, the streetlights hold no other significance,
Other than that they help you see.
I long for Oxford's streetlights for I surely am blind.
