Old Town

In the late morning when you wake

You see the mists over William Street

The heat rises up off of the ground through your sandals

You’ve been walking for about seven minutes and

It’s deathly quiet but then you hear Duval Street

Not car horns or tires or motors, but the buzz of people haunting

They haunt Rick’s, or the Hard Rock, or Fogarty’s

They haunt a hundred bars

And they come out and they have some drinks in them

And you feel the sweat trickling down your back as you watch

And the dust rising up off of the streets is old

And that’s part of the charm of the

Old Queen Anne houses with hexagonal towers

Rising up above the rest of the island clean

Towards the Caribbean sun

You turn the corner onto Duval

You light your cigarette and inhale the

Crowd, moving like a herd

Smashing into you and each other as they stumble into Sloppy Joe’s

It might be noon now as the band plays on

And there’s a Bachelorette party in all-pink T-shirts flipping

Coins into the mouth of the bass

In front of the saloon, none of them made it, but

The evening is fast approaching

And a couple on their 25th anniversary wants to watch the sun set on their lives

At Mallory Square

Or maybe you’re one of the ones that

Got here and you never left

That happens, I hear

People recount how they made it here and somehow got stuck

Or maybe, just maybe, in their heart of haunts

They just wanted to get away from it all

That’s when you know you have

The magic of Bone Island

Rooting you there

I’m ready to go to back to Captain Tony’s

I hear it’s haunted

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