Mid-November 2005 – (3 ˝ months after the levee breaks) – Uptown

Seven A.M. and the doors are opened.
Coffee beans and croissant crescents
Together with Vivaldi fill the morning air.
I have come to read the morning paper,
Check my email; wash my face, and find,
Perhaps,
A small crumb of comforting conversation
That I might hungrily strain to overhear.

Here, I savor a slice of humanity,
Swirling like river eddies, so many faces;
Carpenters, plumbers, electricians and busy baristas,
Dark suited men with gold clasps on their ties…
Some sit alone,
Some stand patiently waiting,
Together we gather to contemplate the daunting future,
Sharing table, space, and the occasional welcoming smile.

New Orleans was blessed with a brood of such places.
Like tiny cherubs they come to take my hand,
Guiding me to their innermost sacred sanctuaries,
A haven from the hellish world outside…
The crumpled, sunken, mud-covered houses
Lives tattered by flood and hurricane.

These are days of woe and wonder.
The Gods of electricity and cable TV
Have been struck dumb!
I am guarded by storm-trooper soldiers
While the laws of the jungle
Are being made incarnate by old men who have no children,
No elderly parents, no sense of compassion or love.

In these times, in this place,
Few shelters provide the promise of absolute protection;
No leaden walls between the fragile self
And the rue de la course of our collective fate…
Yet, for one bright, nirvana-like moment,
As these coffeehouse doors swing open
A palace of euphoric dimension is revealed,
Providing some brief,
Much needed
Relief.

(Oh, and did I mention, the coffee here is pretty good!)

Michael S.True 11-18-05