Café du monde….eating and sipping coffee….
New Orleans is the strangest dream
Victorian crimson with a dash of tourism

“you look lost, what are you doing here?”

To my surprise a young, French accented woman, wearing prada
persuaded my attention from this write

[Her life was tattooed on her arms with stunning detail]

I told her I was here to save the world
With the art of fallen angles. spoken in
A language that melts prejudice
And replaces with romanticism

Chat chat chat chat

She took me by the arm up Rue Royal
And said meet me at Le Richelieu

*10:30 sharp*

French vision
Dark eyes, dark hair
And a stare that could
Have been the end of the world

{ma petite étoile}

Sprinkle twilight a sugar coated sour
City with a twenty-four hour bass line
A pulse to no match I have ever known

White dress/black polka dots/matching bandana

*black stilettos*

[I could die right now]

“I will show you true new New Orleans beauty”

Coffee in hand but not for her
Burbon street skin selling
Big daddies topless and bottomless

Her roommate, nude with dollars between mannequin fingers
[hand grenade supernova]

“ceci est le garçon blond que vous avez parlé de?”

She rushed up and gave me a big kiss on the cheek
[her septum ring graced my face for a moment]

[a broken ballerina]

"You two look like something a rockabilly Dhalli would paint"
*portrait lovers*

{au revoir les enfants de la nuit!}

Up Rue St.Luis we ran until graveyard no.1
Planted the landscape / trapped my heart
And snagged her dress on the fence

[a ripped collage]

She pulled a bottle and recited Lovecraft
In French while Tom Waits set the scene

[lyrical pianist]

She picked up the glass polish and poise
She gave me an absinth kiss
Soaked lips intoxicating in their own respect...


We talked forever on how to change the world and
The due process for art exchange
Saving souls and toppling governments….
[I was wrapped into every word]

Next to a shallow grave we danced
And kissed some more
[Nicholas Bouidouin de Laffiete if I can recall correctly]

Ballroom voodoo lovers….
The soft horns seemed to fallow us
As theme music for a grand escape
To her cheap studio on Rue St. Peters

Shed my clothes like giving me new life.

“you look like a modern statue of David,
The way men should look, and your eyes
Can pierce my heart quicker then any
Knife wound could muster”

[making love to a Sigur Ros soundtrack]

The smell of sheets and petals
To a subtle beat
And our romanticism
Jazzed a blaze of heat

But time dropped like a suicide
And she has to work,
And I will have to take a plane.
Walking out of the apartment
She danced to the curb and clocked in
And I wanted to take her with me

[exposed her whole heart in one night, minus one tiny detail]

{mon David, vous êtes mon premier amour, vous êtes mon dernier amour, je ne vous verrai jamais encore…… vous remercier mon petit nuage}

[she stole my words and put it in her purse]

You wrote this for me
And I will never doubt love again


She made me want to die

{ma petite étoile}