I know where I received the
“gots”,
The Big Easy baptized me with
night, blessing me with jazz,
filling my cup in City Park
where benches hold court and
whispered spirits and suitcases
full of dreams speak the Creole
with gumbo warming the soul as
I wander to through Jackson Square
and past magnolias where French
Quarters fills my pockets and light
my way to Preservation Hall
With horns alive pulsing and jiving
Like the pop of jam and sweet milk
flowing to a wind on the leeward side
of great water coming from the north
I turn to the back street of every place
honoring the kingdom of sound as my
shoes walk a beat, slapping the upside
of night toward the next Po’boy with
the hots for the cool of me.
Roger Singer 