A poem about Love by Dick Hercules


I was sitting in the Café du Monde in the French Quarter, my beignet yet untouched. It was one o’clock in the morning and I was elbow to elbow with other patrons, the tables being less than one foot apart. Much hobnobbing, and I the only one with a space to myself, reading the financials page, no less. I’d just hoisted my cafe au lait towards my snout when the table rattled and everything upon it rose into the air and came down with a clatter. This included my own elbow. The one supporting my cafe au lait, no less.

I sighed and flicked out my monocle, letting it dangle from its chain. I rubbed my eyes in frustration. Not a moment’s peace. Not one.

“How on earth did you find me here?” I said.

“You can’t hide from me, buddy boy.”

“Do you see what you’ve done?” I said…

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