New Orleans of my dreams/ draft one
fiction
edward w pritchard
Life and death stand nose to nose in New Orleans; sometimes back to back
Below sea level; you may wake part of the lake.
Water is sweet when it overflows; salty waves or Pontchartrain brine.
Liquor softens sorrows at the death of friends
and music soothes, swaying from the cemetery back.
Women lose inhibitions Saturday nights,
then holy hymns Sunday mornings sing.
Food too spicy but sweet;
neighbors close, all discrete.
Morning start early with choices and plans,
afternoons a warm rain soaks our tired souls,
late nights end with drifting jazz,
stars are low in the sky,
and heat inundates the quarter.
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