Blackwater Zydeco

from a friend in new orleans i hear how filthy, dirty, diseased-- where life-giving water wages liquid war on the lives it long supported-- life beneath blue roofs under grey skies in black water-- the very air has revolted, turned from salty sea breeze to the breath of a briny dump-heap-- a city built on water, by water bled wet until its brittle bones gave way-- leaving only the grim report sent up the mississippi to the tune of a tired old zydeco song last remnant of the past city-- from a french quarter gift shop