A hole in the wall café; no tourists in sight.
My host promised me some authentic food.
We caught up on old times while we waited.
When our food came, my friend held up his
hand to keep me from taking a bite. He took
a generous helping.
His eyes glazed over, and his hands began
to shake. Tears splashed down his cheeks;
his nose began to run. He gasped several
times;.sweat popped out on his nose. He
blew like a dragon breathing fire. I was
becoming concerned.
He finally shook his head to clear the cobwebs.
His eyes focused, and he uttered, “Damn, that
gumbo is good.“
