Midtown Magic

I experienced midtown magic in my trip to New Orleans,
Where the people are so real and the trees are evergreen.
This is the essence of New Orleans that I so dearly love,
The one of my childhood, before the working class got shoved:
Moved into to the suburbs and the city's periphery,
With the promise of housing that would be rent free.
They moved to secure their piece of the American dream,
Never realizing this was a political and corporate scheme.

With the advent of a new city caused by a hurricane,
The essence of the working class, in midtown remains.
There are divas dressed to die for still meeting for lunch,
With shoe polish black hair and hair as pink as punch.
There are old time politicos whose children now rule,
Hoping for anonymity as they set on their bar stools.
The smell of sweet olive trees may not permeate,
But the shade of the lives oaks is still something to celebrate.

The friend that I met for lunch certainly spoke to my soul
When she shared that in the Bible Belt she didn't feel quite whole.
She shared that her child had asked her about the people who were left out
Of the fundamentalist beliefs that Bible preachers love to shout.
She said that she and her husband, a moral Jewish man,
Were seen as not equal parts of the Christian salvation plan.
New Orleans has always been a center of spiritual openness
And the mistakes in relationships, the people are quick to confess.

I cannot think of a better way to live until I die
Than celebrating we're all human, as long as we continue to try.
We are very outspoken about where our boundaries really are,
So that those at our same parties won't rain on our cigars.
We understand that those around us may be on different paths,
And we have the choice to wait for them or to take a pass.
All I ask is that those who say they love me work with who I am
Instead of trying to convince me I was a mistake in their god's plan.