new orleans under moonlight

the rain druds the streets, whispers a tongue no one hears. i just noticed how the heat clings like a hand, cool but not there, unlike the distant breeze. neighbors murmur; they’re just other ghosts in the fold. some say the history there grinds slower than breath. i wandered past places you don’t expect to see, like a café where time bends. reviews? they’re just rumors, left on walls like old lies. for a moment, it felt like a sigh the city could hold. a map shows streets that twist wrongly, but the air still breathes. i left clutching nothing but the noise of its own absence.

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