THE GOTS

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.

 

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