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Poetry Magnum Opus

Lousiana


dedalus

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East Texas, she don’t say much to you,
small little towns where they say move on,
we don’t want your kind. Lousiana

looks the same. Same-ish. Not so.
Come into New Orleans you can feel it:
a shabby old town, lets you come on down

First thing you do is hit the bars
and meet the locals, get hit over the head
by the music, the way they talk.

Are we still in America? Sho’ nuff
honey chile, something creole french,
we have crossed an invisible border.

Where you come from boy?
Ain’t no never no mind,
you having a good time, son?

Brilliant, totally fuckin-A, sir!
The poliss here are sleepy, son,
You don’t want to wake them.

Yessir! Thank you. Y’all be good,
gonna drag ma weary ass on home.
Good night, Senator, good night, goo …

My Christ, was I talking to a US senator,
when ummmmm, you smell so good.
Some woman (I beg you) is nuzzling my ear.

Mmmm, feels good. This girl is black,
She is Afro-American, she is kissing me,
and it feels so hot and sexy cool.

She is lovely. Her name is … sorry, I forget,
but she asks me home and she says to me
have you ever loved a black girl before?

I say no (which is true)
and she says it will cost thirty dollars.

Oh no, a wave of disappointment rolls over me,
just another silly girl for sale, lost on the waves
of necessity, the family, all that need for cash.

She laughs, she says it doesn’t matter.
You’re cute. I kinda like the way you talk.
Let’s see what you can do in bed.

In the morning, drained, very happy
I look upon her feminine sleeping form,
so black and beautiful, lightly snoring.

I slip fifty dollars under the pillow.
Will she be angry? I hope not.
She needs it, I think she will understand.

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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Frank E Gibbard

A Brendanesque typically picaresque jaunt enjoyably told, you are in full flood lately, trying to keep up always reading if not always commenting though.

Frank

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A wonderful presentation of a city of great artistry and joy. The music pervades and melds the culture. The food and enjoyment of life are pervasive. For me only, I would delete the last two stanzas.

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Francisco -- Brendanesque/ picturesque? I submit (muttering) to your valid accusations.

 

Hope you are well, old friend, and jaunting along!

 

Best wishes, Bren

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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Paco, amigo -

 

I have deleted the last THREE stanzas! On your head.

 

Hope all goes well.

Bren

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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"Are we still in America? sho' nuff".......Excellent and most human illustration of the cultural diversity within the U.S. You were right to delete the last three stanzas. Much enjoyed. G.

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  • 1 month later...

You had me at.....the first stanza. Being away from East TX for 32 years, and forced to move back for family issues, I see not much has changed. All the poem resonates; it's all familiar. Thorough job. Though I have never been to Nawlinz proper, I've seen enough of Louisiana.

 

"Are we still in America?". After reading Howard Zinn --and this-- was there ever really an America?

 

But I would have said desperate instead of silly (for the girl).....Just me being a tender hearted, commie, pinko, liberal.

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