I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

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In the morning I woke up in Bart’s room–actually it wasn’t morning, it was just past noon, and Bart was elsewhere and Chris was blow drying his hair in the bathroom. My body felt as hot and wrinkly as the clothes I had slept in. In fact, I had slept with my card key in the back pocket of my jeans. Carynne had designated today as a laundry day in the schedule and it was just as well. The suite had been made up, cleaned and straightened; there was no way to tell if Ziggy had slept there or not. He was not there now.

In the shower I tried to think about what I’d say to him when I saw him again. I tried to imagine apologizing, but I couldn’t really think of what I’d be apologizing for, exactly.

I tried to imagine him apologizing, crawling on the shag carpet toward me like the way he did on stage, admitting his crimes and begging forgiveness while the city of New Orleans glittered and shone in the window behind me…

Seemed unlikely.

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