Bubba found Jesus in a camper on St. Claude
Serving gumbo to the crack-addicted whispering to God
The crawfish babies in the sun melted on the curb
A cajun princess chewing gum hung on Bubba's every word

Permanent cosmetics could never hide the smell
In Bubba's semi-private tomb behind a Bourbon street hotel
Crescent City ghosts that never lived to tell
Meet nights at the leather bar where Bubba drains the well

Bubba's walking proud in the upscale neighborhood
New skin and hair and nails are helping him look good
Socially and chemically he found the right approach
A backwater Bayou boy, he fell for an image coach

A happy hour hostess painting faces in the heat
She looked like a giant roach in a freezer full of meat
Bubba doesn't mind that she doesn't have a mind
Her legless body swivels and her toothless smile blinds
Crescent City citizens pay her for her time

A kindly ghost was Bubba long before the floods began to rise
A tourist and her lover found him in a pool of puke and flies
Not an image coach in town could provide the right disguise
To cover up the grieving heart of his Crescent City bride

Written by © Nevada Kerr
26th July 2002.