Bourbon Street

Night air shivers at the waves
where neon lights snap glowing haze
people laughing from above
in oyster bars and sawdust pubs

Somewhere a cafe plays blues
drinks flow with smoking hues
stifling out the tides of thought
where passion dies in lurking rot

Are there souls in empty faces
in moonlit rooms and backdoor places
gathered there for the numbing roar
of no place, nowhere, and no more?

Bourbon burns the aching throat where
the lonely die and lovers gloat
lust falls in the backward streets
all among these insidious retreats

And here we are on Bourbon Street
together and alone among the bleak
where night air shivers at the waves
and neon lights snap glowing haze


© Christopher Raine