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Streets are lined on both sides,
surrounded by giant oaks cloaked in a variety of accents,
amethyst, emerald, and flaxen overshadow all.
No matter the location, the pulse of jazz can be heard,
beating strong like the proud heart of the timeless city.
The rich aroma floats down Bourbon, Chartres, and Poydras,
tempting the crudely inebriated tourists.
An overwhelming combination of sweetness and atonement,
all wrapped up in a delicate pillow.
Strolling by each open restaurant door,
each more enticing than the last,
settling on Ralph and Kacoo’s for crawfish.
Tepid etouffee slides down the throat,
cream and spice dance around in a mixture of culinary heaven,
Clamor of Mardi Gras quickly spreads down the main streets,
the parade of floats, each one adorned with glitter and maché,
Followed by the pummeling of heavy plastic against skin.
The blare and life embedded in this metropolis,
most might be suffocated by this amalgamation.
Oddly enough, I find this place to be my sanctuary,
here and only here, can I be truly peaceful.