Do you know what it means

I miss moss covered vines every day of my life

And breaks between the oak trees that line St. Charles

When driving in the late mornings to see the sunlight

That deepen the color of my forehead’s scars

Looking up to see the train pass by the levee

Sitting on thin wire stools that

let me pretend to be someone who likes black coffee

White paint cracked, Tulane frat,

You couldn’t possibly know what it means

to miss new orleans