The
bacchanals of the night before
consigned
to memory, someone else’s,
and
it is sufficient to walk the streets
from
Canal to Esplanade,
from
Rampart to Decatur,
imagining,
as I do, if I might meet
Faulkner
as he leaves his apartment
on
Pirate’s Alley, or Dreiser emerging
from
a nearby alleyway, or Tennessee
with
eyes older than his years walking
to
his place on Dumaine. Perhaps
I
should let some grizzled artist pay me
ten
dollars to draw my picture, or sit
with
the lady at the card table
with
her Tarot cards as people stream
from
the 11 a.m. mass at the cathedral.
Instead,
it is sufficient to walk the streets
from
Decatur to Rampart,
from
Esplanade to Canal,
and
catch the streetcar for home.
Photograph taken by Janet Young, October
2010.
2 comments:
Sunday morning coming down
well. how can an artist make any money that way?
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