Southside Swang

I remember those hot, wide streets near the rumbling train tracks. I remember those corner stores and dark-skinned characters always ready to surprise you with a smile or a sinister stare. Twilight lathered swimming pools and 32 ounces of Miller High Life to end a day of bike riding and couch visits. Porch dwelling and grass watching filled the hours in between class and work. That often ignored, but frequently enjoyed, sound of a jubilant accordion makes me wish now that I was capable of teaching people how to 2-step, but instead I can only stumble my way through it while pretending I know what's going on. Oh roux! you dirty brown concoction that is the beginning and end to so many meals in that humid state. How could I wait 24 years before making you for the first time, thousands of miles from where you inspired me. Louisiana, you're like a friend that I never tried to make, but then one day I find myself telling you all of my secrets, although I'm just beginning to listen to yours.