Katrina, You Bitch
She took all that he had.
His house and his boat,
his dog and his guns.
and all that he wrote.
If he had a family,
she’d have taken that, too.
The levee had failed
he knew he was through.
The water rose,
the wind roared
but he never left town
nailing board upon board.
But she took it all
and left him dry,
whispering in the dust;
“You bitch, you bitch…Why?
He tried to walk out,
but was stopped at the bridge
so he turned around
on a virtual ridge.
He could leave now
no reason to stay
Or he could remain
and find a new way.
He walked to the East
his mind clear as a bell
to his own 9th Ward
straight into Hell.
He laughed like a madman
and spit on the ground
his whole life was gone
not a trace could be found
There was no one else laughing
There was no laughter or play
So he walked into town
back to “Vieux Carre”
In his old bar on Bourbon
he relived the past
through the eyes of the devil
at the bottom of a glass.
It was easy to drink
his blood had been spilled!
But he slammed down the glass
and walked home to rebuild.
Tom Crowley
in
since October, 2005
Written in November, 2005
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