i stroll down the french quarter
bonjour
admiring the trellesed balconies
old time jazz music gently drifts out of store fronts
mixing and mingling tones in a barrage of rythmn
bod doo do wa ah oh bododoowa ah oh
saxaphones hum out licks and artists fill the streets
taking in the sounds and the heat
sticky humidity that can be cut through
by tourists and business men
then coffee
fast moving waitreses in triangular hats and white medical shoes
glide through the busy cafe du monde