French Quarter

Press your southern words on the back of my ears,

Plant my feet on your brick lain streets;

Let me remember that the body is  made to work out passion,

and music made to dulcify the present, erect a mythic past;

Sensualize my coldness with your uninhibited hospitality,

Color me beautiful and render me musical in a glittery, exotic shine;

Let me forget time as a linear entity,

Blur those rigid past and present lines.

Slow me down for a solid southern charm, turn my East coast quickness into a jazzy, lulling loiter;

Transport me to a colonial, iron-balconied street,

in the throws

of a magical French Quarter.

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