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By Christopher Submitted by chris Date: 2001 Aug 22 Comment on this Work [[2001.08.22.22.03.27444]] |
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It's always summer here. At least it seems that way. I wipe the sweat from my brow and pull off my soaked shirt, looking forward to nothing but some quality R&R in the hammock stretched between the cypress trees. But from out of the mud hut I can smell something cooking - a rich, complex, vaguely fishy smell... And then you emerge, arms opened, face flushed, and pull me to your swelling bosom, drenching me further with your kisses. "I've been working - " I start to say, wanting nothing more than simple relaxation. But you will have none of it. "I have prepared dinner for you!" You declare. (I'm not hungry, but that doesn't seem to matter...) "You'll never guess what it is!" You say. But I'd rather not guess. All the same you tell me: fresh nutria, trapped by your own hands, down in our Bayou... "A rat!" I scream. "But," you counter, "it's a delicacy in New Orleans!" No matter, I'll pass. No rodent for me. But you will have none of it, and I soon realize that the decision is not mine to make. "First we must make love," you exult. "Here?" "Here." "Again?" "Again." I don't even try to argue but only ask permission to first run inside for the insect repellent. You pull me close to your swelling bosom and I know this...is Love. Alas, we could not hide, for it is Love that has found us here on the Bayou. |