Late Night Thoughts as Sirens wail

Late Night Thoughts as Sirens wail

When night cloaks the air heavy

And sirens sing on Bourbon Street

Wailing city sax and sad drunk tourist

Drape benches like so many discarded rags,

Muttering low, like a chorus a swamp coolers,

pockets full of slow grind French Quarter girls.

When New Orleans drips

Gutters fill with black glitter water

And little boats of twisted 2 drink cards,

My heart beats heavy bass drum

Leading an empty second line parade

of my past,

of wild-eyed women

of staggering old men,

arms outstretched, flailing drunken mad

at dark draining clouds.

Where are you tonight?

Where are you joyous New Orleans?