Visitor on Burgundy Street
I was living in a very rustic two room creole cottage.
It was in the center of the block, behind the houses facing the street.
Lots of green. Urban wildlife. Secluded.
My daughter snidely referred to it as 'the wild kingdom'.
You can stroll around the neighbourhood
(google map-Burgundy and Clouet New Orleans.)
It was slower and funkier back in '89.
I loved that crib.
I was sitting one warm summer evening in the kitchen room
with my friend, Laurent, having a friendly chat.
There was no air conditioning,
just the whir of ceiling fan
and a nice cold drink when,
during a break in our conversation,
the screen door creaked open and a man's voice drawled,
"Yeah, darlin', here I am"
My ears heard Southern but, South-Western like Texas or Louisiana/Texas.
He sounded as though he had come in from a long trail ride herding cattle or ?
A voice, weary and dusty but, there was a smile on it too. A big smile.
Laurent pushed his chair back and rose immediately from the table.
He was thinking my man or boyfriend du jour was there
and he had better scram but quick!
I went outside and looked around for him,
thinking maybe my neighbour boys were joking about.
No one was there.
Walked clear around the cabin. Nothing. Nobody.
Coming back inside
I got a big rush of COLD,
remarkable, because the night was hot, hot summer hot.
Body hair was standing on end,
was there an electrical smell ?
Laurent was nervous as a cat
so we walked down to Markey's bar
for a restorative cocktail and a telling of the tale.
He tells this story to this day and remembers it just as I have written.
The whole scene really wigged him out,
well, first he thought he was going to get clocked by some other guy come a courtin',
and then the paranormal stuff.
The 'cold', the electric smell, the hair standing on end,
never felt that before or since.
I was more curious than anything.
His voice was friendly and warm and sexy too.
Who was he ?
WOOO WOOO,
S