New Orleans in the summer
thinking back
her name was Glenda
worked at
The Old French Opera House
not that kind of opera
Glenda was a stripper
went by the name of
Debbie, the Debutante
she had all the moves
then some
lived above Galatoire’s Restaurant
she was hot
and yeah, I was full of it
walking proud
a rebel just because
we came together one night
and stayed that way
for some time
we refused to jive talk about loooove
that wasn’t what we were about
I was about sex
period
she was about somebody to come home to
period
those strippers?|
who’d ever think they could be lonely?
they can be tho
some of ‘em
I filled a niche for Glenda
somebody she didn’t have to dance for
somebody who’d go to bat for her
take up the slack
I could do that in those days
we never fought
or even fussed
I’d take her to work
when she got off I’d take her home
keep the street scums away from her
maybe we’d have breakfast somewhere
it’d be about daylight by then
New Orleans, Louisiana, twenty-four-seven
don’t you know
or maybe we’d stroll through some old cemetery
they bury ‘em above the ground there
she liked spooky things like that
funny thing about Glenda
she liked to write little poems
read ‘em to me and giggle
we made it about a year
it’s all in my book
Misdemeanors & Felonies: A Memoir
wouldn’t it be something
if Glenda was on PiP
and read this
could happen
I’d never know unless she spoke first
cause I have no doubt
Glenda wasn’t her real name either
just like Paul Earnest Holkanson
wasn’t mine
still, wouldn’t it be funny . . .

[This message has been edited by JerryPat2 (02-09-2014 09:31 AM).]

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