Details |
Ronald Loupe Poem
She wore perfume that smelled like a Sunday lie,
And lips like rusted knives—
A woman like that don’t settle,
She just wanders through men’s lives.
I gave her my keys and my winter coat,
She gave me a goodbye note,
Hidden within a half-full bottle And a half-finished murder quote.
She was last seen by me at a pawnshop, Trading wedding rings for smokes—
She said love is just a shell game,
And I was her last broke joke.
Now I sleep with the window open,
Just in case her ghost blows in—
She was jazz in a needle,
Additionally, I sinned too slowly. She taught me how to ruin myself
With a crooked smile and class— And how to cry like a thief in church
in a town that doesn't merit the distance. Now I date my loneliness proper,
And wear my shame like a suit—
But I still keep that damn perfume bottle,
And a postcard she never wrote.
Copyright © Ronald Loupe | Year Posted 2025
|
Details |
Ronald Loupe Poem
"Return to Bourbon" (The Gritty Underbelly of New Orleans)
I left my soul in a crawfish boil
And my transgressions in a taxicab, Where the driver was blind in one eye
And the meter was stabbed.
The gutter gurgles like a gospel hymn
Also, the rain comes down hard, like a drum, But Lord, I’d give up my rent-stained mattress
Just to feel that voodoo hum.
The Quarter ain’t what she used to be,
I, on the other hand, am not— I got a scar where my halo was
And a suitcase full of lies.
Mama called it the Devil’s playground,
I called it home with a grin—
'Cause even the rats tap dance down Chartres
When the bottle lets the jazz back in.
The hotel's wallpaper contained apparitions, And prayers scratched in the stalls.
They don’t ask where you came from,
how far down you fall. I sleep next to regret and rust now,
In a city too clean to trust—
However, I'd give up this silence for a good howl. in a shotgun residence with damaged ductwork. Yeah, I miss the roaches in the beignets,
The smell of blood and rain—
You are not forgiven by the city, But she’ll always know your name.
Copyright © Ronald Loupe | Year Posted 2025
|
Details |
Ronald Loupe Poem
"Custody Blues in C Minor"
(Disaster and Love as a Single Father)
One coffee mug I purchased had a cracked lip, A plastic spoon, and half a bed,
And the echo of her "I’m done with you"
Still knocking around in my head.
She gave me a car seat to keep. And a drawer full of onesies and grief,
And now I rock my girl to sleep
to my own disbelief's sound.
She had dreams about the chandelier, I had a cough and a nightlight. I boil noodles with the baby in my arms,
Tryin’ not to piss God off.
Sometimes I wish for bourbon,
Sometimes I wish for death—
But then them little baby snores
Take the fire outta my breath.
There’s love in frozen waffles,
And hope in diaper pails—
Yeah, I lost the war of roses,
But I’m still standing in the hail.
Ain’t no lullaby for heartbreak,
Ain’t no handbook for regret—
But I’ll raise this girl on gravel roads
And pay off love’s damn debt.
Copyright © Ronald Loupe | Year Posted 2025
|