A Poem by Shellie Richards

 

ON THE WAY TO GAUTREAU’S

in NEW ORLEANS

 

I walk on up ahead of you

On the way to Gautreau’s

 

Across the street the butterscotch Greek revival is ablaze

with hot pink and white azaleas

The glossy lime of fresh boxwood hedges

caress my fingers and I hear

your footsteps behind me

And somewhere in the sound of the grinding gravel

the promise of your touch on my bare shoulders

You take my hand like a young lovebird

the faint smell of your perspiration hangs in the air between us…

and I am humming our national anthem and

looking at you in your navy blazer

- the gravitas with which you wore it –

 

Like you’re the next State Senator –

And for just a second my mind wanders and thoughts of the maybe years and what if times…

 

And thinking there are few things in this life as sexy as a boxwood hedge

except maybe you

On the way to Gautreau’s.

 

 

 

Shellie Richards’ work has previously appeared in Bartleby Snopes (winner, story of the month), the Belmont Literary Journal, The Chaffey Review and Vanderbilt University’s Tabula Rasa. She lives in Nashville with her husband and three children. She works at Vanderbilt University where she edits scientific papers for publication and is currently finishing an M.A. in English (writing) while working on her first novel.