Back in Lafayette

It's Lafayette. What can I say? A town like
Any other, it's a mismatched ball of this and that:
A sleepy-looking city center, chock-a-block
With legal firms, a prison, lots of college kids,
A side for white folks, prefab, sterile, one for blacks
That's older, battered, overgrown, with rattly buses
Running past. It's April, and the weather's warm.
It's crawdad season. Soon, the world's bands
Will come and play for free downtown, and people
From all over will arrive to sway and dance,
And drink, and, when the music's over, those of us
Who've come from far away will leave, and Lafayette
Will ball back up as it had been, and how
It's apt to stay.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 186 times
Written on 2019-04-24 at 16:19

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