Sport 31: Spring 2003
The rivers teemed with
enormous freshwater shrimps
but that was Martinique
and I was thinking of Louisiana—
backroads strewn with sugar cane,
your swampboat cousin at Atchafalaya—
bless you. We'd both caught colds
from running in the rain across New Orleans.
Z'habitants, écrevisses, ouassous, crawfish—
whatever you call them, they're so good
we could push the boat out, every night
and every morning
sleep late, talk, turn the boat around,
head for another shore.