Suite Marigny

I can smell jazmine

covering this morning

like a wide cotten bed sheet
of white class lace.
And I taste
her breath of coffee
and cigarettes
and Maryjane
and Bloody Mary coughing
on the banquette by the gate

of this courtyard in the Marigny.
I lay me down my soul to sleep.
But the heat won't let me.
so I lie
awake
and dream...

...of a dog park,
well, a bald green lot
with two trees
beside the coffee warehouse.
You can see the bags
loading in off the docks.
You can feel it on your skin
when they roast it up.
There the people gather
with their very best friends
and drink in the shade
and talk with the wind
while this flat bywater sunrise
finds them
laying down
their entire lives.

There was a time
when all these houses built from barge wood
gave strong men right lively hood
as they flooded in
from the river.

You may know the sounds
of unbroken belief
with a bucket of seed
and the pigeons beside you
as you slide down
the wet stones of the street
to a little cafe'
named for the goddess of flowers
where the Eight Ball lines up
with a Lucky 13
and Snake Eyes and Diamonds
and Demons in Chains
and the Angel waits
for St. Ann to begin
with her mask made of sorrow
and her laugh made of sin.

So when I die
do please carry me
down Royal Street
with a brass band
and a second line beat
by the courtyards in the Marigny
i lay me down
my soul to sleep