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Date: | Mon, 26 Feb 2001 14:14:38 EST |
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As I cannot often interact within the web site the following is a Post card
from Mobile and my preservation Journal......
Mardis Gras morning
In the morning light
The purple beads shimmer and lay broken in puddles of beer
and ballyhoo ballast
from the Mardi Gras hoo-hah
Like wreckage from the storm
The masons disheveled and unkempt
nurse hangovers under hooded parkas nuzzling coffees
while a fresh offshore breeze numbs their brain in sleepless contemplation
waiting for the sun
tired and grizzled they silently watch torn carnival masques
of glitter dance in devilish updrafts under the scaffold
The masques laugh at them and show no mercy
.....as the day after...
becomes the day before....
a series of endless bacchanal of
costume and parade. Teetering on madness
When
The great red ball of the sun rises from the Gulf
song birds revel under a cascading light in a blue azure sky.
as shore birds glide soundless overhead
The men warm to the day and shed clothes as Pinks and golds of intense
morning light stream tru the filter of green canopy of the old live oaks of
under which the men labor with their rock
Children leave for school on old cobble paths as
The block and tackle sing with their load of stone
In the hanging moss of the oaks wild parrot and black squirrel chatter in
unison with the rhythm and cadence of the cutters hammer and chisels
A bright sun scurries young Mardis Gras lovers behind old wooden shutters
where in the intimacy of slanted light on darkened beds
cries and whispers in sweet moans blend with the whir of a sleepy ceiling
fan
as a radio drones from nowhere the men call for mud and stone
Below the scaffold in the cobble streets
Creole call girls en route home
call out merrily to the men who answer
back gaily in mock rhendevous
tapping their chisels and waving hammers
in salutation.
The compressor chortles and hisses
and competes with the din of foot and road traffic
as robust Negro maids in African kerchiefs
sweep stoops
"Goodmawing" they call out as they make for market
past the sweet talk of the mud man who scrapes his pan with his hoe
and turns on his Mardis Gras charm like an old rooster in kaki.
Tonight; the streets will come alive in outlandish costume
and revelry, by Monday the port city will be closed to all commerce
except the magic and mystique of Mardis Gras
...
Morality will be suspended as young women will bare their breasts
for colored beads
atop pretty party boys in drag holding hands
ass they dance in the streets past drunks in torn tuxes
vying for curb space with lost souls
Tap dancers work outside overflowing bars;
as shrimp the size of cucumbers are served spicy hot and sizzling with 99
cent drafts of iced larger flowing non stop to would be adults and adults who
would be teenage.
Crowds swinging to Dixieland and Cajun rhythm as impromptu quartets take
over stage left and right on all corners catch trinkets from mermaids and
beach maidens riding beauty queen floats with pasty covered attendants.
On and on for 48 hours The bacchanal rages under gas lit street lamps past
gumbo bars and tattoo parlors with every walk of humanity engaging in the
illusion of what is and what isn't..
There is an old part of America captured here
that celebrates its catholic Cajun- Afro-American Spanish heritage amid 200
year old architecture; culinary delights; in the colorful quarters of 19
century port decay.
For the most part I do not expect to see the men again until the weeks end
(unless the bondsmen calls me )
by then they will be useless and most likely in need of a bath no ... we
will most likely finish next week.If they survive...God Willing
Then I have 3 weeks before I will be in New York and Dred the return of
winter
a prospect that fails to warm me
Best Michael /all rts 2001
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