I love it so much I've written a performance piece about it.  ;)

Laissez les bon temps roulez!

My heart races with anticipation
Snapshots of each and every
Glorious moment
Of past revelries
Tattooed forever on my fading
Senile
Mind

Children atop parent’s shoulders
Puking corndogs and cotton candy into the crowd
Adults – on the ground
Heaving beer and jello shooters
Onto hundred-dollar sneakers

Ah, sweet memories!

Moonpies & cheap beads
Flung with the intensity of missiles
Knocking out teeth…
Causing concussions…
I am happy

There! A tiny child climbs over the barricade
And is almost trampled by a horse
And then! Almost crushed beneath the angry wheels of the technicolor floats
The parents shriek
Then pummel the wee one
“Gonna knock you down, sistah!”

A huge and bouncing woman begs to the masked ones
Shouting for a doubloon
“Show me your tits!” the revelers cry
“Cover them up!” the innocent bystanders shriek
Turn away, turn away!
But alas, too late
Their eyes bleed with the pain
Oww

That man who just fell off his float
In inebriated fashion
He’s a judge
That man on the ground he fell onto
He’s a brain surgeon
He’s working tomorrow

The enticing aromas of
Sweat
&
Horse dung
&
Something else I don’t recognize
Waft through the air

Be still my trembling heart
For I am in heaven

Pickpockets!
Gunshots!
Handcuffs and paddy wagons!
The very essence of Mardi Gras

Look at the pretty lady
In her eight-hundred-dollar-ballgown
Now see the reeling homeless woman
Catapult her cherry icee
Into the sequined-lady’s cleavage
Laughter
&
Fistfights
Ensue

Soon
I will sleep
And then awaken at the gates of hell
And I will shout to the gods:
Smite me y’all, if I ever do this again!

But then I forget
(For remember, I am senile)
As the next day and parade roll around
And the confusion continues
And the festivities race along
Until:
The pinnacle
Fat Tuesday!

And then it’s all gone
Gone like your money
Like your boyfriend
Like that tiny remaining shred of self-respect you thought you still had
The silence broken only by the roar of the street-sweepers
Vociferating to the drunks in the gutter
&
Carrying away the lifeblood, the very marrow of Carnival

(Fade to black)

-frolix