Blanche hollers

thinking I let the place go? I let the place go?

Only it’s me

And this isn’t Scene 1, and we are northerners

In this humid city

And I say

thinking I’ll let you go? I’ll let you go?

We rode bikes over

And over

Dark rings under your eyes

I equated myself to a flame

dancing wavering-nearly-going-out

And you

the wind

Let’s fight and dance until the stubbornness of New Orleans saves us