Yesterday there was the drive to New Orleans. There was the drive back.

There were people in cars, in bars, on bikes, on banquettes. There was a home that had not been tended to since the death of a wife nine years ago.

There was the French Quarter. An electric violin. An oak-lined street with median called 'the neutral zone'.

There was a Naval ROTC training building, like an old gym with its pine floors and 29layers of white paint.

There was a lonesome man. There were musicians. The smell of pralines slow cooking. Chain of command photos.

Katrina’s name was spoken over and over. There was fish and mirleton and greens to eat. There were weapons, and knots, and a ship’s bell. There was a gentle breeze off of the river. Buildings of many colors. The smell of beignets. Feelings light and heavy, light and heavy. The arrival of a train parallel to the water. There were feather masks, sculpture, beads and skeletons. People with too much and people with too little.

There was a fortuneteller near The Cabildo. She told me her talent, to read the palm, learn what's to come. I told her no thank you. I like surprises.