Crescent Lady Scenes, views of New Orleans
scenes in prose
Shadows splattered on flagstones,
Five decades old.
Wooden shutters over windows
That will no longer see heavy winds.
Neighbor to neighbor, so close,
Two walls almost one.
You will hear the woman's sigh
As her lover withdraws,
Their union broken.
In between, a trumpet blows mournfully,
Crying in its windy heart
Blues so old the creator is forgotten.
A woman sits at a rod iron table,
Not of yesterday but of today;
Hair lifeless, its luster lost four bottles ago,
And eyes like a raccoon
In pale white makeup.
A spectre of new individualism.
Dracenias in hanging vases;
A dwarf palm in a huge pot,
Dancing aimlessly in a breeze,
Worn from obstruction.
Faces from far away,
Wear February Fat Tuesday beads
In April sunshine.
Balloons twisted into grotesque animals
Clutched in small hands,
Unaware of the temporariness of the rubber pets.
Crescent Lady, what strange attire
You wear today!