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Crazy
Horse at Mardi Gras, 1987
By Rudolph Lewis
For tourist execs, New Orleans
swings
a sensual-rhythm jazz, a funked up
fantasy
of Creole families masked as Queens
& Kings
though plastic as their tossed beads
& doubloons
Pasted, night-walking zombies
entertain
in 2nd
story flats on Bourbon Street
Post-bellum, handkerchief-headed
mammie dolls, apron red, black
lips stretched to a grin, stand
silent
as cigar store Indians on Decatur
Screaming J Hawkins mimics
himself, making a comeback, staged
by the White Knights of the
Camelias
Snake-hipped minstrels drum major
thrill seekers into ivy-covered
voodoo
alleys. In the syncopated rupture
of click clicks of toe and heel,
you’re
found dead in yesterday’s
headlines
The wind dances in the sand. . . .
And Crazy Horse rides backwards
into dark empty sun-setting spaces posted 8 January 2006 |