red stick.

I DO miss Baton Rouge. I miss her. My freshly painted yellow porch swing. Heading to the Chimes for cheese fries and to Chelsea’s for fried green tomatoes and shrimp remoulade, and also for running into people who I actually know - familiar faces. I miss my friend a. and her front porch and living room – the way they embrace a person. I miss my friends l. and c. and their dogs and their back yard and drinking whiskey with them while we gossip. I miss being around girls who wear make up and heels without necessarily being 20 and in a sorority. And the way I can go either way without feeling awkward. Jeans and sneakers on friday, heels and a dress on saturday. (Why are the girls older then 21 in Austin and San Marcos so resigned to anti-fashion?) The swamp red maple tree in my back yard, whose leaves I’m certain are a burst of yellow right now, and in a few weeks they’ll spread a rug over the grass that will glow. I miss walks in Spanish Town with my friend r. – who isn’t in BR anymore anyway. I also miss laughing with her terribly. I miss the porch at Perks – all of its gecko lizards scurrying, turning from brown to green. I miss the sight of banana trees and I miss the overwhelming color of spring green spreading flat and far out all around me. A vast carpet interrupted by a muddy brown thread of twisting water.