The Bluesiana Snake Festival. Aubrey Bart

       “Sounds like one for the grafitti wall, dear.”

       “Personally I find the cathedral overenhanced. In my view all of this artificial light is a desecration. I could feature undeflected moonlight anytime.”

       “Weird thing about it probably most tourists could too.”

       “The powers that be should be persuaded of the sheer vanity of all this kilowattage.”

       “Albert, you’re such a romantic.”

       “Diehard innocence groping in futility.”

       “I love it!”

      Dockery said, “You know, I heard someone say, This is snakemoon, you know. I’m thinkin, No, I don’t know. What is snakemoon? I dunno, d’you?”

      Liz said, “Search me, dear. Sounds swamp culture to me, but then again it could be an indian thing or something, I really don’t know.”

      “I detect pop astrology.”

      “Truth to tell, dear, for all I know, somebody just made it up.”

      Meantime, at a wayside salvaged Baptist pew, United Cab Ronnie was schooling Dockery’s live ones: “Yeah, style counts for a lot in this town.”

      The weddingparty holdover, somebody’s bridegroom, stirring from stupor, bid a rally; weddingcake wipeoff wanting wiped more, he was heard muttering slurred: “Wants she should get on my case I’m a loser? Well I got news for her: If ever there was a asshole there was hope for, it’s gotta be me, and I’ll swear by that to my dying day, and I don’t mean what’s left of it.”

      Crosslooks and highsigns so much for any good to come of a Boss Fix nuptial bash

      Couple-three flicks at a lightswitch. Big Jim Bullshit hailed the house: “Daddy’s feelin happy but he’s runnin outta tricks!”

      Everybody heard that.

      Place was bedlam.

       Keep it lit, pass it around

      —Graffitti wall, Ursalines Convent

      Fountain plaza benchtop (“Torrid florid” surround): Milo sparked a bone and passed it.

      Brooklyn Bob said to Art Nieman, “Y’know I once asked a California dude howcome California people are so weird. He said, ‘It’s the fault, man. All that earth energy comin up from the fault.’”

      Art Nieman said, “There’s an old California saying: At the end of the trail, you’re bound to see some horseshit.”

      Brooklyn Bob had to laugh: “I like that!”

       . . . Chopped hog winds out on Decatur

      Nieman said, “So whattayou guys do here anyway?”

      Brooklyn Bob said, “I don’t, they do.”

      Milo said, “Actually we’re in trash.”

      Nieman said, “A straight job?”

      Milo nodded: “Streetsweep.”

      Nieman: “Awyeah? That’s cool. Y’know I’ve heard tell streetsweeps in San Francisco bring down fifteen large a year.”

      Milo said, “Not this side of truth.”

      Nieman said, “Hey, what you bring down brings you down, hey, I don’t need to bring it up, know what I’m sayin?”

      Milo said, “Put it to ya this way. Anybody workin for the man for less is doin time inside or on a chain ‘n’ anklebrace outside.”

      Nieman said, “Hey, that’s cool. You’re into an alternative lifestyle.”

      Brooklyn Bob said, “I foresee a Tomb of the Zen Wageslave all the rage at The Oddfellows Cemetery.”

       . . . The Beadlady slinks crossplaza

      United Cab Ronnie asked Nieman, “So howya like this mother of midways?”

      Nieman said, “Mother of midways is right. So far I’ve dropped fivespot to some black kid bet he could tell where I got my shoes. Then I got about threefourths tight on somebody’s bootleg absinthe. Then just now I caught the bum’s rush outta this place over here.”

      Forbert said, “I fell for that shoe gimmick once. It was a long time ago. I didn’t pay up though.”

      Nieman said, “The walkingcup was what bummed me out.”

      Brooklyn Bob said, “Big Jim Bullshit sayin it with plastic. Now there’s one for the ages ever I heard one.”

      Nieman said, “I had all my shit packed. Nobody wanted to hear it.”

      Brooklyn Bob said, “Hey. Hot timin town, man. Yer gonna get eightysixed. It happens, y’know. You take it in stride.”

      Nieman said, “Big Jim Bullshit, uh?”

      Brooklyn Bob said, “Operates black ‘n’ white, recollects in technicolor.”

      Nieman said, “No harm in that—I hope.”

      United Cab Ronnie said, “Claims he got shook down by Elvis at an airport.”

      Nieman said, “An airport?”

      United Cab Ronnie said, “Claims Elvis flashed that G-Man tin, y’know, that Nixon laid on’im?”

      Nieman said, “Shook down by honorary heat all shook up.”

      United Cab Ronnie said, “Vintage BJimBu.”

       . . . offriver whiff of mud airs trace heartland

      Nieman said, “So where you guys from?”

      Brooklyn Bob said, “Better from than there.”

      Nieman nodded: “Hearya there. Been to the mountaintop, seen the compromised land.”

      Brooklyn Bob said, “There it is.”

      United Cab Ronnie said, “Not the land of a thousand dances.”

      Brooklyn Bob said, “More like night of the living dead turns to day.”

      United Cab Ronnie said, “Your basic mainstream american slobocratic lifestyle in other words.”

      Nieman said, “So this is asylum.”

      Brooklyn Bob said, “Ass end of the river, man.”

      United Cab Ronnie said, “Bottom landing right here.”

      Milo said, “You follow a voice till you come to the music.”

      Nieman said, “Hearya there, man. I can definitely relate to that.”

      Milo said, “What we’re onto here is this plane at a frequency unlike anyplace else above ground.”

      Nieman said, “Man, I dunno where your realityspace is at, but it can’t be crowded.”

      Brooklyn Bob said, “Yeah, ole Milo, he’s pretty stretched out.”

      Nieman said, “Principled dude.”

      Brooklyn Bob said, “He’s like an old tree. I mean if anybody can exist without a witness, Milo he’s got balance in the dark.”

      Milo said, “Speakin of the dark, I’m flashin on lights out for the people at the square.”

      United Cab Ronnie said, “Kinduva guerrilla moonlight observance in the making, more or less.”

      Nieman said, “Radical.”

      United Cab Ronnie said, “Uncut moonlight is the buzz.”

      Nieman said, “Do I detect