Young Goths in LoveJackson Square breathes warm and sweet,
The humid retreat from the Louisiana sun.
New Orleans natives endure the heat
And the slings and arrows of outrageous tourist fun.
What brings us to this strange old town,
To rummage through streets grown insidious
And gaudy? What strange and sacred Cajun crown
Metonomaniacally rules, grown hideous?
To crows of Odin and Morrigan's rooks
Walk the streets like misplaced Cockney get;
The murderous mockingbird looks
Of ersatz poets kill, aid, and abet.
Past mimes and jazzmen we seek eternity,
Too much the mayflies for immortality.
copyright 26 May 2000
by Earle B. 'Glas' Durboraw; New Orleans.