Flora Café is a coffee shop in the Marigny. It is on Franklin Avenue. It also purports to be an art gallery, and there is an impressive collection of ceramics for sale. The two dimensional works on display range from decent to primitive. I am mentioning it because there are poetry readings at Flora on Thursday evenings and Shugee has written a poem.
“Man, King, I don’t how you write so much. I’ve been working five minutes on this poem and I can’t finish it. I’ve got a big poetry reading tomorrow and my new girlfriend, Maya, is going to be there. I really want to impress her.” Frickin’ Shugee. What week is this?
“Read me what you have so far,” I said. Shurgee read to me with real feeling. Python Lady heard him and came over to listen. Such is the power of the spoken word.
Shugee began. There was a tremble in his voice. King could tell he really meant what he was saying:
I do not like to eat jambalaya. That doesn't mean I hate it. When my mother served it, I generally ate it. It's not the worst food in the world That one could choose to eat, I prefer to avoid it though When I see it on the street.
“Whaddaya think, Kinger?” Shugee asked. “I think it needs something more. One more verse would clinch it.”
I am not a poet, as anyone can tell you. I don’t know why he asked me. “Give me a minute,” I said.
Looking at Python Lady, who had that mischievous twinkle in her eye, I pulled out a piece of paper and brandished my fountain pen. I didn’t take long. Writing doggerel is as easy for me as it is for an Indian to shoot an arrow through a doorway. After a minute, I said to Shugee, “Read this aloud.”
He read it in he head first. When he reads silently, his lips move. Frickin’ Shugee. Then, he read it aloud. It was very moving:
I want to marry the girl of my dreams. She will never cook me jambalaya. We will live together on fresh eggplant and papaya. I dream about her all the time. This special girl's sweet name is Maya.
Shugee choked up at the end. “It’s perfect,” he gulped. “I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I get up and stage and read it.”
Guess who’s going to Flora Café on Thursday? Have Vespa, will travel.
