New Orleans' Dawn

Sounds of sax, trumpet and snare lure me away
from the shotgun shacks of childhood years.
Horns wail like a concave scream.

Parched mouth yearns for smoky night clubs.
Loins lust for men of gin and vodka and lies.

The small morning hours fade
in a whiskey-ruined whisper
Lady Day welcomes me into the waking world.