Les Bontemps have rolled

It is hard for me to imagine what it's like to live in a place where people are not in severe post-Mardi-Gras mode this week. I am in New Orleans, so I am in that mode. No doubt burning global political issues demand to be jumped up and down about. But I am not here for that right now. I just am not.

            And how can I share festivity-related recollections, when I don't recollect anything.

            Thank heaven I took the time to record a line of philosophical inquiry from a bumper sticker on a car parked in the French Quarter roughly the day before yesterday or one of those days in there before Carnivality commenced to subside. Here's what that bumper sticker said:

                        "How's my driving?"

                        "How does this engine even work?"

                        "How can a loving God cause such agony?"

            And here's something I do remember. Two full-figured young women strolling up Royal Street in costumes consisting largely of a ribbon or two here and there, and not necessarily either the here or the there you would expect. And one of them was saying to the other, "He is attractive."

            And the other replied, "Yes. But not on a personal level." That’s all I heard, didn’t catch his name. But let’s say . . .

                             He's appealing, this fellow named Neville,

                            But not on a personal level.

                                             Is it subatomic?

                                          Or economic?

                            Or a vibe that derives from the Devil?

            Here's another limerick inspired by an overheard remark:

                                    "Here's the thing about Al:

                                    He stole away my gal.

                                                And wrecked my truck.

                                                I mean to say, fuck,

                                    Al is not a great pal."

            Maybe I'm beginning to come around, now. But what if I wake up fully and find myself altogether woke? I don't want to have to stop eating certain things:

                                    It wasn't enough for Pete

                                    To give up eggs and meat.

                                                He was found in the garden

                                                Begging the pardon

                                    Of lettuces. Gluten, he'll eat.