New Orleans
We drove through the night,
empty gas stations
splitting at the seams.
And so it seems-
that it would go on like that
until the deep south,
has us by the teeth.
Cobblestone streets,
lamps and liquor and smoke
filling our eyes with wraiths
and ghosts: The fire, that
burned off his shirt, cast aside
by the shrine of the dead
voodoo, coursing through
our veins-
Chicken blood and bones.
Cursed water and stones.
And now I fear,
that things will never
be the same.
We are cursed men,
walking amongst the dead.
