Every Mardi Gras Day we would go to that stiff party
Thrown by a member of the Landrieu family:
Not sweet Mayor Moon, who had integrated the city,
But the one with a gun shop in Kenner or Metairie.
We’d stand on our feet for hours on the roped-off lawn
(A hired security guard ejecting would-be crashers)
As Rex lumbered by with its dewy debutante queen
And paunchy businessman king as old as her father.
I’d get my revenge at the poetry readings
You’d sit through confused but gallantly polite.
Your uptown friends were appalled by my lack of proper breeding.
My poet friends were convinced you were not too bright.
Not even I believed that we would last this long,
But “If Ever I Cease to Love” was Rex’s song.