I walk the streets among the fallen,
those who point their fingers and whisper enticing lies in the dark.
Nobody will know
sin boldly and drink the wine of lust
tomorrow you may die,
so feast on the miseries of others.
Innocence is lost
and better to be street smart than be thought a fool.
In the middle of a desert among the tombs
full of dead men's bones
is a fortress of peace and refuge of safety
for those who walk the streets at night.
(Reflections of walking down Bourbon Street in New Orleans and finding
the hidden treasure of Beignet Café)
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