I walk along the Paris streets in Mardi Gras,
Fluttering concepts written in stone, fraternity,
Egality, Liberty, I wave their passing like the old gods,
And Leroy, my friend will be there in that passing,
Engraved into my memory like words on stone.
I pass the door and enter in, and down the curling stair
Into the red and yellow room, down in the basement.
Sitting in the dark with his dark skin, his bright eyes
He waits, amid the gutters cleaning, the water rushing,
The horns and calls of Paris on this Mardi Gras.
The table’s laid with red clothes, shining in our faces
Red for Mardi Gras. red for blood spilt and time passed,
Red for setting sun and the rising moon on Mardi Gras.
And as I knock at your door a world passes in ghosts
Of shared friends, of shared thoughts, ghosts in red.
But the door melts, the knocker shimmers and fades
The world of Paris that we shared has passed
As all things must, but not this our day of Mardi Gras.
2nd March 2014