of inhabitations from the children to the
elderly. Shops and food and face paint and
masks and music and fortune tellers and pralines
sellers and haunted houses and hanging gardens
and gutter punks and vagabonds and on and on.
But there is no pretentous and bleating
refrain to keep New Orleans weird because it is.
Unaffected, perhaps enhanced, by the parade
of tourists pounding the cobble stones
in search of release and pleasure and a little risk.
If you need to constantly call for the mainteince of weird
it's already long ago and far away.
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