I just walked into the backside
of out. A shadow familiar to me,
although the road ahead was new.
I took a bus to New Orleans. Open
windows, crying kids, two days
without a shower and living on crackers
and warm beer.
The city greets me with a hazy sunrise
and the sounds of last night bars
closing. The air is heavy to breathe.
Everyone is sweating. A dirty river
breaks wide into the ocean.
Locked steel gates protect three story
brownstones. Magnolias release
a richness to those without.
The streets are crowded and the sidewalks
are never wide enough.
I think I’ll move on to Houston.
Roger Singer 