I found the devil on the corner of Canal and Chartres.
A gleam in his eye, and smelling of French aftershave.
The echo of my footsteps resounding sharply
off the wet Louisiana cobblestones.
He beckoned me closer
whilst a woman with large feathers on her dress
and a snake draped over her shoulders
came to stand next to him.
She had spice in her soul, and rouge on her lips.
Satan smiled at me then.
There was blood on his lips, and his hair was perfect.