Bisous, NOLA

fountain 2

Beneath a history of stars
we rest in secret
gardens enchanted
by our own darkness.

Tennessee for two
tipsy off the honeyed
heat of you.
The lady behind us
is a mood.

With each wistful breath
my back arches
like the deck of cards
shuffling between us.
Aces, we stay.
Kings, we get on that plane.

Cool Jazz
melting into the streets.
Bourbon dizzy
they say the livin’s easy
but only in small doses.

Each uneven step
becomes a literary
in my mind.

There is no Romeo
clutched to the balcony
instead Juliet’s sheath
haunts below each window
an opal of my own protection.

The moonlight leaps
around Saint Louis
casting a grand shadow
of the maker himself.
The glowing grin abreast
easily mistaken as the heart
of the French Quarter.

Behind the red door
we seek refuge from
a haze of humidity.
Familiar eyes explain
humility is
something you
have yet to learn.

With a swing of
call and response
where you lead
I follow down
alleys echoing
the king of soul.

Raspy vibrato
bellowing some day
I will bring myself back
bring it on home
to you.

Until we meet
again, bisous.


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