When the Saints go marchin in'

On the streetcar stop where Canal Meets Bourbon
I met an old black man
whose name I do not remember
What I do remember is sitting with him under the shelter of the stop
on the hard curved bench, designed so no one can sleep on them
in the Sweltering heat
early in the summer of New Orleans

We talked
about my visit to the city
and his world travels
he'd been to New york
he'd been to Chicago
but now he returned home to New Orleans
where he planned to never leave again

We sat together on the crowded streetcar
His cane resting lighlty against my knee
He said that he didn't think the white man waiting with us at the stop
liked him talking to the man's wife
and me
I asked why
he said because he was a black man and i was a white girl
i don't care i said
you can talk to me as long as you want
he asked about new england
i think he thought i was from England
he had never been to new england
i loved his city
he got off a few stops before me
as he left i said goodbye
nice to meet you
enjoy your trip
stay cool, sir

i don't think he ever left.

god bless old man
and David H.Taylor
who's card announcing his art show i still have on my fridge
and everyone else