Bourbon Street Drama

Bourbon Street flows

From dusk to dawn,

Shadows wandering the night;

   the never-ending party,

   intoxicated humanity.

Doe-eyed lovers dreaming;

   the confused hunting for their lost “it”;

   cruisers and losers out for a good time;

   hawkers and stalkers earning their daily bread;

   the angry shouting insults

   at their never-again date

   while staggering through puddles of beer.

Beyond the old old and the new old,

Beyond the artificial moons,

Beyond the twinkling stars

That do not reside in the heavens,

Beyond the reflections of spilled drinks,

Beyond this rowdy illusion of joy,

Ancient live oak trees live,

Their dark limbs hung sadly

With heavy, gray moss.

Then there is the river.

Always the river.

The river just flows.