Saturday, September 15, 2012

Over the improvised street, the balcony leans

Over the improvised street, the balcony leans
and the air mingles with oaks. Colorful food
is strewn on the leaves, she moves like a jazz
in the humid air and the way her thin blue jeans

are stretched amuses me. What do words mean?
What is this feeling I have? I'm as confused as
the drunks that wake on Frenchmen. I am bound
by no law, hear the nonsense of New Orleans

bounce off the road. I am dazzled by the harsh
sound of the horns, she said it didn't matter
how I smelled. The men had burned the marsh

and settled here, I gave her the round quarter
I found on the pavement. The church in this parish
resounds with prayer and moves with the water.

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