Gumbo

GUMBO

We went to a hole in the wall café.

No tourists, but two dozen locals.

This was my first time in New

Orleans and my host promised

me some authentic food.

We caught up on old times as

we waited. When our food came

my friend held up his hand to

stop me from taking a bite. With

his fork he took a generous mouthful.

His eyes immediately glazed over

and his hands began to shake.

Tears splashed down his cheeks,

and his nose began to run. He

gasped several times; beads of

sweat popped out on his nose.

He blew like a dragon breathing

fire.

He stayed that way for more than

a minute; I was becoming quite

concerned. He finally shook his

head to clear his eyes, and he

uttered, "Oh, that gumbo is good.”

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Author: Mike Berger