Jackson Square
Could not be walked across
For all the sodden pigeon droppings.

So we sipped the bitter coffee
At Café du Monde,
Blowing powdered sugar
Off some warm beignets

And staring at the levee
By Decatur Street,
Imagining the river on the other side.

The cemetery tour
Rolled slowly
Through St. Louis #1 and Lafayette,
Only four or five along,

Talking of the mausoleums,
With memories of pralines
On our tongues.

And later in the afternoon,
Out on the Mississippi,
Riding up and down
Aboard an aging steamboat,

We lingered
By the stately walking beams
But hurried past the empty ballroom.