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louisiana

i don't know the source of this photo but i do know it was taken in the hours before katrina made landfall...

the low drone of a fly catches my attention. it very nearly comes to a halt mid air. i pause for a second to ponder how it maintains its lift with so slow and cumbersome a flight. next to me the ice in my sweet tea shifts and adjusts with a tinkle. a cat uncurls stretches rolls lazily and recurls on its other side. a paw now masks its eyes from the late lowering sun. i feel a trickle of sweat rolling down my back. cold droplets fall from glass and tease my hot skin as i lift and drink.

i sit here dazed for a moment. distracted from writing. in a trance. eyes fixed and following the crooked “come hither” finger of her sultry summer afternoon.

i wonder if in another time i did not bow to her. dedicate my soul to her. become her slave. i have lived and died many times before. still i come back to her. i am possessed. owned. was i an explorer seeking new adventure? perhaps a sea captain navigating her port? was i worker come to seek my fortune? a whore selling my body willing to do anything to stay...submitting without reluctance to her dominion?

 i was in my twenties this time when my mistress seduced me. so beautiful so feminine so full of mystique. i gaped in wonder at her. i tried to resist her. i have tried to leave. and every time she has lured me back. seduced my soul again and again until i cease to resist her. she gathers me to her. caresses me in her corseted heaved bosom. her musk is sweet with magnolia and cedar. she sings me a song...slow and sweet and sad. my heart fills and aches with it. like strings pulled i am as a puppet moving to her rhythm.

 in the distance a growl escapes her...thick seductive low. soon she will loose her fury. crack her whip. exhibit her power. lay her sting across my back. her face darkens. water soon will fall from her to wash and cleanse. nourish coffeeweed and cotton and cane. already i feel her power in it. i feel her passion. i lift my glass and sip from it absently. i look up. i wait...expectant. finally it begins to rain and i seek the solace i have been longing for in her love and in her tears. she is my mystic. full of god and voodoo.

perhaps my favorite...re-post from july 26, 2009 
scribere© 
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  1. Anonymous9/17/2011 9:30 PM

    There she is. My one and only. My Louisiana. I seem to find pieces of her everywhere... in everyone and everything. I have revisited this piece many times over the course of these two years and always seem to have the same feeling every time. Ah, Louisiana, how I long for your warm breath and the way you always seem to sweep me off my feet.

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