Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

March 26, 2019, 11:16:29 PM
Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.
Did you miss your activation email?

Login with username, password and session length
This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


Word of the Day
Pages: [1]
Author Topic: New Orleans  (Read 243 times)
0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.
Full Member
Posts: 20

View Profile
« on: March 08, 2018, 05:10:17 PM »

Thick red sauce, sweet and spicy, the crunch of shrimp under my teeth, the soft texture of sausage and the heat of pepper. Crumbling cement sidewalks, bits of grass growing up through the cracks. Hot, muggy air against my face, my hair curling and flipping out on the sides. I reach up to wipe the sweat beads that are forming. The sound of distant jazz music, saxophone and upright bass cutting through a quarter mile away as I walk the back streets of New Orleans. An old man sitting on the porch drinking a Miller lite, a cooler full sitting beside his frayed green and white folding camp chair. The house is painted a light baby blue, probably freshened 20 years ago, the paint peeling and chipping. Front porch held up by cinder blocks.

Plywood sitting on cinder blocks, a makeshift skateboarding ramp on the driveway. Wind blowing through the corn rows all tall and green, full ears ready for harvest. The cement edge of the driveway dropping a few inches to the grass, perfect for spraining and ankle. I rub my hand against the metal pool holding the basketball hoop. Black paint chipping exposing red underneath. As I move my hand up the pole, more chips off. The net is half-falling off, fraying, parts of it unhooked from the hoop. Back porch covered in thin bright green outdoor carpet like astroturf.
Pages: [1]
Jump to: