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9/06/2005

essay: #046 Gliding down Canal Street


I used to dream.

Of bodies.
Floating.
Now.
I only have to open my eyes...


c. cnn.com

Corpses litter.

The streets of New Orleans.

Silent.
Bloated.
Accusatory.


Third world.
In the heart of 'God's country...'
Surely you jest.


Sometimes.

Life.
Trickles.
Like water.
Through fingers.

People howling with despair.
On their knees.
"Life goes on."
Says one banner.

Canoes glide down Canal Street.
While troops.
Prepare to harvest the dead.

Such tragedy.
Death of so many souls.
Population: 485,000.
Not anymore.
67 percent.
African-American.

RIP