There is no city like New Orleans.
Prisoners, bondservants, slaves
sent into swamps and hurricanes.
They threatened revolt
till France sent ninety
ladies of ill repute,
tended by Ursuline nuns
as marriage brokers,
calmed the city down,
thrust it into the pulsing
spicy stew it is now–
with Mardi Gras, cathedrals,
gators, ghost tours,
beignets, gumbo,
streetcar named Desire,
magnolias, Spanish Moss,
Willie Mae’s chicken,
Bananas Foster, turtle soup,
one-of-a-kind Dixie jazz,
Zydeco and Voodoo dreams.
Thanks To the ladies of ill repute—
I take my hat off.
Originally published in Mad Swirl