The masquerade.

(April, poetry month. Number three.)

The masquerade.

The masquerade.

Was a blue moon night in New Orleans and no-one wanted to show their real face.

Beer, wine and liquor was plentiful. Women were exotic and the men were pirates and clowns.

I had beads to give away, and I wore the gifts of beads from the kind folks.

I was with dear Jenny, she was wearing a vintage tight blue dress showing off her legs and breasts.

I wore a dark suit with the color of purple (Justice) green (Faith) and gold (power).

And my face covered by a colorful mask hiding most of my face.

Jenny wore a small colorful mask hiding her eyes.

The music was loud and we joined groups of people, singing and dancing in the streets of New Orleans.

We followed the people to a large masquerade party in a park. Hundreds of people dancing, singing and hugging.

I have loved New Orleans for many years. No racism, no color and they accept the lowest of people.

I met Jenny in 1992, and I was drinking alone after a year on the Iraq border. She caressed my bald head and she asked me. Dear

Soldier, I feel great sadness in you. No-one is sad in New Orleans. No-one is a stranger here. Here in New Orleans, we are

the leftovers, we are the people. Who won’t follow rule and we drink, we dance and we laugh at the messy world.

She took my hands this night and she told me. I am Jenny, in the daytime, a nurse. In the night. A New Orleans princess.

I told her, my name is Johnnie. She smiled, gave me a gentle kiss and she told me. We are not strangers no-more. Now

we will drink, dance in the streets of New Orleans and we will go to the sea at sunset. We will replace the ugly memories

with better memories. Now buy me some drinks. I smiled and I told her, thank you. We drank till we could barely walk and she took

me into the streets. We danced till we could not. And when the city became quiet, we roamed to the sea.

I held her close by the sea and she told me. We need more good days than bad. Now we are friends and when you are not sad.

Please come to me and visit me In New Orleans. We can write to each other. I like letters, I adore love letters.

I did return to her often and I wrote her hundred loves letters. Tonight I told her. I will leave Texas soon, I am off

to Georgia dear Jenny. I will try to return when I can. A soldier life is not his life to know. She smiled and she told me.

Dear Johnnie, seconds, minutes, hours and days. We must gather and keep. Dear Johnnie, we are friends and when you

are sad. Call me. My home is your home always. And please return to me. I told her. Thank you dear Jenny, for the dance.

Thank you my New Orleans blessing.

Johnnie