cafe of the world
trellised curls
fall from triangular hats
over the ears of fast moving waitresses
who will retire to trellising balconies
and brood up potions
to bring enough money
to pay the bills
cults of dark night walkers
purse the streets looking for vicitms
worthy of violent carnage
unsuspecting drunks
pan out
lost from the heat of night
and too many hand grenades
strange run arounds
and circles spun by voodoo priestesses
in attempt to keep the mystery
in line and in time with the history
while small shops sell
tastes of religion
for three times the price
thrice you may pass the same place
only to find that it never existed
in haste you run to the river
bounding over train tracks
while mississippi smells tingle
your senses mingle with the thick moist air
not a care in the world
as everyone celebrates
eatin' crawdads and gumbo with cornbread on the side later
eatin' po'boys on decater
staring at waiters as their faces begin to shine
from persperation and trepidation
wondering why they don't play sax in the street
to earn their eats
ants crawl over feet
in retreat of larger bugs in the kitchen
and i'm itchin' to see joe
he's an artist that i know
he paint's the world through bottle bottom lenses
and questioned the millenium for the sake of young travellers
street dwellers
turn to stone after 2am
avoid arrest
is this a test
can dreams come true with a little voodoo
hoodoo in time with ritual chants
drummers prance out into the street
keeping the beat
rat ta do do ta bat bidat ti do
and the sax screams through the night
drudging souls
out of the cemetary
to do their dance
in a trance
and the colors are streaming out of bead stores
and the tourist bars move quicker
as the air gets thicker
and my movements get slower
and the river is flowing
out into the gulf i gulp
close my eyes
but the beat is too strong
rat ta doo do ta bat bidat ti doo do
and the tones piercing
boo doo do wa ah ooh bododoowa ah oh
and the chants too true
and there are spirits in my shoes
morning comes and only the memory of drums remain