March 10 Lewiston Maine (retroactive)

The name defines the place. Lewiston Maine is Lewiston Idaho. A twin city connected to Auburn is a twin city connected to Clarkston. Sidewalks smell like baking bread with seagulls wafting over buildings dead as trees. Somalians that white people talk to like children. A steam plant from Spokane to come in out of the mist and puddles moving like minds. Snow melting everywhere
water crashing against sidewalks from tops of buildings
transformation magnificent
the wooden blinds here are those of my mother’s sanctuary where one day I will return. This is only time out of mind where I can learn to have infinite strength and trueness to myself and God.
Pulled through turns in the street, the dips my eyes find: over “Wiseman Bridge 1927.”
Lewiston with shady windowless clubs that look drugged and sexed and crimed
—labyrinths—
last night with DP in Ellsworth coming from freezing in the Grand Theater unable to shake the chill we walked to Maidee’s International Restaurant split into two sections: “FOOD” (arrow pointing left) and “SPIRITS” (arrow pointing right) I chose spirits but turned away after seeing only a bar, “It’s just spirits.”
“You don’t want to join the spirits?”
I want to live
water in a manmade canal looks anxious and ready to jump free
triangle chunks of ice floating dawn the Androscoggin River
point my direction
Thai tea makes my teeth turn to flowers saying ecstatic yeses reminding me of sugar and cream days and lives
the great Catholic church doors let me in
a statue carved from granite
Jesus the king of peace down low
looked so sleepy
and they severed the head from
his lamb and chipped off his
noise for a cocaine high eternally