Screeching of the Gulls

"Real politics are the possession
and distribution of power."
- Benjamin Disraeli

Screeching of the Gulls
by denny

New Orleans is miserable this time of year.
The heat rising off Lake Pontchartrain
hangs over the city like a wet blanket.
Unable to sleep on the sweat-drenched sheets
I walk outside along the empty streets, past
the drunk sleeping in the doorway,
on the sidewalk, an empty wine bottle.
Past the hungry eyes and empty hands
peering from the cluttered alleyways.

The city has never really recovered
from the devastation of the storm, so
I walk out to the harbors edge
to where the waves play along the shore and
sea birds strut, looking for a meal.
To the half moon curve of the sandy beach
the clean salty spray of the ocean breeze.

The politicians keep tell us that
the city is coming back, just wait
give us more time, more money.
But here, along the shore all I hear
is the screeching of the gulls.