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CRESCENT CITY BOOGALOO<br />
For Jeff Morgan<br />
By Alicia COLE<br />
There's the strangest beat on the street<br />
when the Crescent City Boogaloo Beasts<br />
come to town: wild cats, wild dogs, wild<br />
emus; wild, man, just wild. Wild men also.<br />
Are the women also wild? Howling!<br />
It's Frenchmen when the drums kick up,<br />
when the last drummer kicks down and<br />
the crowd is left sobbing. The woman<br />
at the bar is tearing her dress.<br />
There's coffee stains on her legs, like<br />
she woke up cumming java -- wide awake<br />
and needing one last jolt. I tell her, "Baby,<br />
it's just cumming down, off the caffeine.<br />
There's another drink. One last rolick<br />
for the road. It'll take you to your other<br />
Wonderland." So I leave her at the bar,<br />
and let some other gentle escort her home.<br />
I'm looking for someone in the corner.<br />
It's the Crescent City Boogaloo when<br />
everything has stopped, everything<br />
is waiting to go, everything is being<br />
cleaned up for tomorrow. Everyone,<br />
just about everyone, is leaving to go home.<br />
I'd like one last cigarette. I'd like one last<br />
emu. I'd like one last dog, but just for<br />
walking. I already have a cat.<br />
There are beasts in this town. And they<br />
are snarling and growling. And howling<br />
and yipping. And sniffing the wind.<br />
There's no one other than me
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