Originally posted 10/4/2013.
A beautiful Saturday night in the city:
a punk fan
spits up on a classic rock fan
in front of a disco
and a country fan turns up her nose
at the hard, hard house music
her date seems to prefer.
A jazz fan hurries past everyone
because no one likes a jazz fan
except for the reggae fans — they
love everyone, mostly. Mostly —
except for that guy
with “Tosca” leaking
from his earbuds.
Meanwhile on the corner
two surprising kids
are committing a bluegrass murder,
hoping for spare change in the hat.
There’s a hint of bhangra in the air
and a hint of merengue in the air
and a hint of calypso and soca and mento
and someone’s got a ska torch lit too;
it’s a beautiful Saturday night
in the clamoring city,
making you wish
you could play everything
whenever you close your eyes.
Dark Matter 
February 21st, 2015 at 3:10 pm
again…..you take us there……
particularly enjoy the “bluegrass murder.”
but the reggae fans are good too.
I love the diversity of humanity. I stood on a corner on Bourbon Street in the French Quarter in New Orleans and was heady with delight at the chaos and contrast of the mid -western tourists complete with cameras around their necks and wearing Bermuda shorts, the transvestites beckoning from the balcony of a club, jazz coming from a corner bar, the smells of bourbon and shrimp creole, an Evangelist on a soap box shouting scriptures, small black boys dancing in the street, a group of what had to be Baptist Sunday school teachers glued together for protection wide eyed at the sin all around them, a voodoo street artist with a stash of eerie, but strangely compelling paintings, and the spires of St. Louis Cathedral, where I was baptized, towering in the background.
Love it love it love it. But can’t capture it in words like you can.