We may know the sound of unbroken belief
with a bucket of seed and the pigeons beside us.
And we slide down the wet stones of the street
to a little cafe named for the goddess of flowers.
There the 8 Ball lines up with the Lucky 13
and Snake Eyes and Diamonds and Demons in Chains,
and the Angel waits for St Ann to begin
with her masque made of sorrow and her laugh made of sin.
So when I die…
please think of me down Royal Street
with a Brass Band and the 2nd Line beat
through the courtyards in the Marigny
and lay me down my soul to sleep.
May his body be mended.
We got your back brother.