Leavings

New Orleans
a city to walk in
so a city to write poetry in

The streets are poetry
Toulouse
St. Louis

Music tie-dyes the air
and neon

Heard on the street (one man yelling to another)
–“Can you make the sun shine?”
–“Yes, but it is a six-week process!”

A woman leans weightlessly against a door     Galatoire’s
her dress quintessence
her skin pink alabaster
black hair and violet eyes
(Vivian Leigh made contemporary but farther south)

Another woman sings jazz bravely
in the shadow of Irma Thomas’ statue

Overcast February Saturday
damp beignets
powdered sugar dusts a child’s cheeks
some spilled on the ground
sweet sorrowful leavings

A little hard to say goodbye to the Big Easy