Once New Orleans was in the works I lost Luc.  He tried to slip back into society but couldn’t.  after about ten years people noticed he didn’t age.  For someone trapped in a twenty-one year old body it doesn’t take long.  He started hating me.  I went to Abita and crawled down in the spring.  The Choctaw tried to reason with me, but I was just too broken hearted.  When you share a body with another and give them a piece of your soul, then lose them it takes a while to heal. 

Jolie Holland croons “old fashioned morphine,” from the speakers in the dark bar.  The floor was laid three hundred years ago.  The tree it came from was four hundred years old.  It feels warm through my shoes.  The place is called Lafitte’s Blacksmith after an old friend of mine.  We didn’t start out as friends, but he grew to love me.  A piano sits alone craving attention along the back wall near the washrooms.  Candles light the room and cover the slate ceiling with soot.  Weekend nights are my favorite time here.  Everyone is too drunk to notice me.  Stale beer and sweat hangs in the air with tobacco smoke.  Tonight is Tuesday, or Mardi Gras.   I stop by the bar for a few bottles of beer and rum. The room is flooded with warm energy as the crowd trickles in and out like lapping waves.  No one knows why they’re drawn in, I love the rush.  He’s sitting in the corner waiting for me. Hat tipped back and a huge smile on his face.  Gombo rolls sweet off his silver tongue.

“Di moin qui vous laimein, ma di cous qui vous ye.” In English: (Tell me whom you love, and I'll tell you who you are.)

“I know who I am Cher and Cochon conne sir qui bois l'ape frotte.’ (The hog knows well what sort of tree to rub himself against.) ‘My friend flattery does nothing while you have a penis.”

“Oh but you are wrong my dear, you have a one inside of you right now, don’t you? And Dogs don’t eat dogs, what has this one done to please you so?”

“Ooh I forgot, well he can wait a bit longer anyway.”

“Good, good, I have a gift for you and it can’t.”