If only my body were built for tourists

[nonnymonster]

I'm afraid this is a regionalism, but it's a delicious one (to me). The last line fell from the lips of a sailor who was in the habit of saying perfect things without noticing, so I stole it while he was drunk. Extra points if you get it!

If only my body were built for tourists,
I would open my rococo gates for the crowd below.
Or for one man,
Taking decades to remove each feather mask.
But my bricks cracked before they were baked
And I reside in the Slidell of my heart.

[imaginary friend]

Wet harmonica kisses and now drunken sailors

I'm not sure if I 'got' what you intended, but I like the idea of comparing one's heart to the intimacy of a small town, and being fond of ambiguity, I like that the poem could be either a small town used as metaphor for the narrator's longings, or, narrator's longings used as metaphor for a small town...

[Cate]

I've come back to this several times now - this is such a unique poem.
Like imaginary, I imagine it to be both a woman and a town speaking - perhaps during carnival or a masquerade ball.

I would open my rococo gates for the crowd below.
Or for one man,

I love the images that hit me here ... 'or for one man'

[nonnymonster]

Well, my Slidell is perhaps more cynical than Imaginary Friend's. But as long as I'm giving you some sort of Slidell, I count that as a win.