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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The bayou sky flies a catfish moon over swamp gators And cottonmouth vipers. Accordions, fiddles, and rub board vests Make their ramble through the undergrowth hot on the trail Of a sultry midsummer house party in Sweat Neck, Louisiana. All the usual suspects are there. Sharkskin Slim doffs his topper To Ruby and Rose - the Harlequin Twins. They curtsy in reply. They came to town to show local folks how business gets done. Fast Man is fresh from stabbing Satan in the back; same as before. Snorkel-nose Nelson lays his blackjack on the table. Pelican-neck LeBeau considers the odds and spits. A honeysuckle breeze wafts across the terrace. Eucalyptus, peppermint, and pine tar grace the veranda Where Miss Bunny Bouche, in her famous lavender velour, Garners attention from spy boys eying Cajun temptations With considerably hardened intentions. Several teamsters Just in from Shreveport dance lively while a claw hammer fiddler Plays Tee Nah Nah. Essential words are suggested in the space Between the jug and the mason jar. They speak of collard green Creole rice served with crayfish in roux étouffée. The snap beans Are sure enough salted. The shrimp gumbo is suitably spiced. Sad Hannah sits off in the corner, her motives transparent As parish politics. She’s been rumored to have dabbled In arson crafts she’d learned at Magdalena’s Den of Sin, But no one ever really pays her much mind. She’s been deliberating the consequence of a life not lived, And sees a glimmer of hope in the eye of a hurricane lamp. Her chance of escaping obscurity erupts through the hall. So now, it’s last call and damn it all, take a left at the crossroads, And be sure to turn your mattress over when it’s time to climb downstairs. And as for Hannah, sad Hannah, well, it’s either up Ladder Lane Then down Hemp Alley, or else it’s just a lonely walk home.
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