Sunday in the Quarter

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.