A poem about the Katrina fraud of New Orleans that is still going more than 10 years later.
I have only worked in New Orleans for 18 years, so not a native. Just a poem on my impression of how the City is run.
The advantages of and practical steps of how to make someone "dead to you" so you can get on with your life and be happy.
Why do some people always assume the worst and what to do about it.